


Soldat

by ConstantWriter85



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Battle Couple, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epilepsy, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Romantic Fluff, Seizures, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Torture, Whump, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, hydra reader, winter soldier reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 97,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24680437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantWriter85/pseuds/ConstantWriter85
Summary: Another Winter Soldier has been activated, someone from Bucky’s past. As the Avengers track down the new head of Hydra, Bucky struggles to help you overcome your programming, finding a piece of himself that was missing all along.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 317
Kudos: 471





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This is a very dark story, please heed the chapter and series warnings. There will be fluff and healing, but there’s a lot of Hydra darkness to wade through first.

“Prep her.”

“She’s been out of cryofreeze for too long. She…she’s too erratic…unstable.”

“Then wipe her and start over.”

Spoken in Russian, you hear their words but remain motionless. It is a second language to you now, or maybe it always was—you can’t remember. They haven’t spoken to you or given you an order, so you remain sitting in the chair, staring blankly ahead.

You understand their words, but they don’t affect you.

You know what’s coming but are unafraid.

The Asset is never afraid.

Hands push against you, lowering you back against the headrest. You catch a whiff of ozone and leather as they shove the disgusting mouthpiece between your teeth, but you accept it anyway. The men nod at your compliance, but you feel no pride in their approval.

You have no pride. No feelings at all.

You are simply the Asset.

Clamps fasten over your biceps and wrists, binding you to the chair. Machinery whirrs behind you, rotating towards your head. Your breathing quickens, an involuntary response…the muscle memory of repeated torture.

It's not until the sparks began to fly that something deep within you shifts ever so slightly, and you began to tremble.

A high-pitched whine, and the world goes white as your skull splits in two.

You scream.

*

Awareness comes back to you slowly, the room swimming back into focus. You are seated in a chair, leather and steel, but you don't know how you got there. Your mind is a blank slate, and you drift.

There is movement out of the corner of your eye, and a man steps up next to you, a red notebook held open in his hand.

“Trestle.”

His voice is cold and commanding, and you stare obediently ahead.

“Celestial.”

“Twelve.”

Deep within you that weak thing is still fighting, and you clench your jaw to silence it.

“Bullet.”

“Warming.”

Your body trembles as the thing within you struggles to the surface.

“Five.”

“Hillside.”

Wait—how did you get here? What’s happening?

“Turntable.”

“Three.”

Your head twitches involuntarily. You remember this…this is bad…this is…

“Sparrow.”

You are nothing. A tool, a blank canvas. You are no one.

You are the Asset.

A pause as the man closes the book.

“Good morning, sol—"

The last word dies in the man’s mouth as a shot rings out, overloud in the cavernous space. Wet warmth sprays the side of your face, but you don’t flinch, don’t even blink. The man’s body slumps to the floor, dead before he hits the ground.

Three figures step into view, and your eyes shift to them appraisingly. They are not dressed like the guards.

One is tall and carries a round shield with a star on it, but you don’t see a weapon. The woman next to him has red hair, slenderly built and dressed in a black suit, positively dripping with weaponry.

The other man is almost as tall as the first and dressed in black leather. Long brunette hair hangs in his face, and he slowly lowers his gun, still smoking from the shot fired. His left arm is incased in metal, and the red star on his shoulder looks remotely familiar. His eyes flick to yours, and you feel something shift deep within you as you stare at his grey-blue eyes.

You know him.

He must be your handler.

You look at him expectantly, awaiting further orders. He shifts on his feet nervously, and the man in blue whispers something to him. With a shake of his head, he steps towards you.

“Good morning, Soldat.”

The words are barely audible, almost as if it pains the man to say them. Yet their meaning is clear. You sit up straighter in the chair and once again look forward. The handlers don’t like eye contact.

“Ready to comply.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Torture, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This is a very dark story, please heed the chapter and series warnings. There will be fluff and healing, but there’s a lot of Hydra darkness to wade through first.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve was looking at him worriedly.

Bucky gripped his rifle and took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I’m fine, Steve, let’s just get this over with.”

“You know if she’s fully activated, we might have to put her down.” There was Nat, straight to the point and as blunt as always.

“I know,” he said softly, his heart clenching. “I don’t want it to come to that, though. You should’ve put me down, a hundred times over, but you didn’t.”

“I knew you, Buck,” Steve said.

“She’s the same as me…she’s a victim too.” Bucky straightened and placed a hand on the door. “Last resort, okay? Just…give her a chance.”

Steve nodded, looking at Nat worriedly. He was nervous enough bringing Bucky to the Hydra facility, let alone trying to extract another Winter Soldier. It had barely been a year since the Triskelion Incident, and he was afraid of how Bucky would react if this went south and they had to ‘put her down’, as Nat so indelicately put it.

Bucky opened the door and they split in three directions, moving swiftly down the hallways. Hydra agents were quickly dispatched, their bodies hitting the floor silently as the trio infiltrated the bunker.

“Buck…I’m in the surveillance room…you need to see this.”

Bucky turned swiftly, blading his weapon down the hall as he ran towards Steve’s location. He skidded into the room and looked up to the monitors. Nat appeared behind him, and she inhaled sharply as she saw the monitor Steve was pointing to.

The girl was strapped to a steel and leather chair, restraints on her arms and legs. Her head was thrown back, and a large metal contraption was fastened around her head. Bucky could see the flashes of electricity as it was passed through her temples, and he saw the black rubber mouthpiece gripped tightly between her teeth.

He could still taste it.

Worst of all were her screams. Guttural and wrenching, they eviscerated him, and he felt his gorge rise. He shut his eyes tightly and struggled to control his breathing, but he was unable to shut out the sound. His heart was breaking as he watched another go through the torture he had endured for so long.

He was going to be sick.

“They’re activating her,” Nat said coolly.

“What room is that?” he croaked.

“Lower level, southeast side.”

Bucky took off at a run, Steve and Nat at his heels, and they descended to the lower level.

Weapons were raised, shots were fired, and two more Hydra agents fell dead. He was a machine now, one step away from the Asset he feared. Bucky heard Steve calling to him, but he pushed harder, ignoring his cries. He had to reach her—he knew what came next.

Four guards were posted at the entrance to the Cryogenic Facility. Four shots rang out, and four bodies hit the floor before they even had a chance to draw their weapons. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

Bucky threw open the door, his weapon automatically trained on the Hydra agent. He was standing next to the girl and reciting out of a red notebook Bucky knew all too well. 

“Sparrow.” The agent closed the book and turned to his charge, oblivious of his audience. The girl stared, unmoving and resolute as she awaited the final command.

“Good morning, sol—”

Bucky fired without hesitation. The agent’s head snapped back, and he slid bonelessly to the floor. Bucky’s face felt numb. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears and his vision doubled momentarily. He was dimly aware of Steve speaking to him, but he only had eyes for the girl in the chair.

The Asset.

It was like he was catapulted back in time, gazing at himself in the mirror. Her glazed, empty look, eyes dark as ebony as she awaited her mission objective. She shivered slightly in the chair. The side of her face was still coated in the agent’s blood, but she made no move to wipe it away. He worried for her, worried that she wouldn’t be able to push past the conditioning. He didn’t want Steve or Nat to have to kill her.

Her gaze slid over the trio and latched onto him. Her eyes widened slightly, and he felt an electric current surge through him.

She recognized him—he saw it in her eyes.

Bucky lowered his gun, unsure of how to proceed. The girl continued to look at him expectantly. It was a difficult situation. One false move and she could revert to her prime objective--to kill all intruders and protect Hydra information at all costs.

“Buck, she’s looking at you…say something,” Steve whispered. He knew the delicacy of the situation and deferred to his friend. Nat scoffed and her fingers twitched towards her handguns, but Bucky ignored her.

He looked at the girl, and with a shudder he recognized the look in her eye. The expectancy—awaiting the next command.

She though he was her handler.

_Oh, my god._

Bucky swallowed thickly and took a step towards her. He had to do something. More agents would be coming soon—he had to get her moving. He spoke in Russian, the phrase grating across his lips.

“Good morning, Soldat.”

The words broke him. The compliance in her eyes broke him. Her head turned forward and her words chilled him to his marrow.

“Ready to comply,” she answered in Russian, falling back into the familiar programming.

Bucky took a shuddering breath. “Stand up, Soldat.”

The girl complied, standing obediently next to the chair while Nat eased back towards the exit. She leaned out, hearing footsteps pounding down the corridor.

“Cap, we’ve got company,” she said. As if to confirm this, an alarm began to sound.

“Mission objective,” the girl said, her voice an even monotone.

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Exfil. Preserve friendlies, eliminate hostiles.”

The girl’s eyes flicked between the three of them as if confirming the order. Swiftly, she bent down next to the fallen agent, relieving him of his weapon and knife. She stood just as Hydra agents burst into the cryo chamber, firing her weapon repeatedly.

One shot, one kill.

Steve’s shield flew past Bucky, and the girl ducked beneath it as it took out another agent. A chill ran down his spine as he moved closer to her, firing his rifle and watching as she began her deadly ballet with the swarming agents, her face expressionless.

Her pistol clicked empty and she dropped it, drawing her knife. An agent drew down on her and she opened his throat, not hesitating before dropping to the ground and slashing at another’s Achilles’ tendon. He dropped like a stone and she grabbed him by the hair, slamming his face into the concrete wall. Nat swung past her, flinging her Widow’s Bites at one of the agents while Steve crashed into another, his shield raised.

Bucky felt a sense of déjà vu as he watched the girl move through the agents. Images of another place, another time flashed before his eyes—a time where they had both been Winter Soldiers, working in tandem to inflict the maximum amount of damage.

“Buck—C’mon!” Steve shouted as he broke free of the agents. The girl scooped up one of the many discarded weapons and sped ahead of him, taking her place in the lead and protecting the group as her mission objective dictated.

“Nat—the blast doors!” Bucky shouted. The two large concussion blast doors were closing, and once shut they would be trapped within the facility. Nat ran ahead to the console, trying to overwrite the command.

“I can’t stop it, it’s protected by retinal scan!”

The doors shut with a clang—they were trapped.

A group of scientists were fleeing ahead of the trio, tripping over the bodies of the downed agents. The girl raised her gun and fired, catching one low in the back. Wordlessly she grabbed him by the hair and drug him over to the console as he protested feebly, leaving a gruesome trail behind him.

Bucky drew up beside her and looked over at Steve, who stared open-mouthed as she held the man’s face up to the retinal scanner, disengaging the biometric security. The girl dropped the scientist and shot him in the head without sparing him a second glance.

The doors opened and they raced out of the bunker and through the woods to where the Quinjet waited, concealed behind a low hill. Nat sprinted to the controls and flew through the takeoff procedures, raising the loading ramp just as gunfire began to pepper the aircraft. They lifted into the air, and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief.

He’d gotten her out. Now came the hard part.

The girl—he refused to think of her as the Asset—gave the trio a cursory visual examination before turning and reporting to her handler.

“Mission complete, zero casualties.”

Bucky pointed to the seat against the Quinjet’s bulkhead, and she obediently sat, staring straight ahead. She sat in silence for a moment before speaking again.

“Mission objective.”

Bucky’s heart broke. He hadn’t wanted to do this in the Quinjet in case things went badly, but they were way off script here. Picking up a bottle of water and some gauze from the med kit, he sat next to her. As he reached out to brush the lank hair back from her face, she winced away from his touch and he mentally kicked himself.

Assets were never touched by their handlers. If they were wounded they were sent to medical, whose attentions were cursory and harsh. If they were dirty they were taken into another room, empty save for the drain in the floor, and they were stripped naked and hosed down like animals. Bucky remembered how startling touch had been to him at first and he hastened to reassure her.

“Shh…it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” He wet the gauze and quietly began cleaning the blood from her face and neck, thinking of what to say.

“Are…are you injured?” he asked.

The girl continued to stare straight ahead. “Two broken ribs on the left side and a laceration to the upper right arm, sustained during the previous mission. Damage will be self-corrected, the Asset does not require medical attention.”

Bucky huffed and turned his attention to the laceration on her arm. It was deep but clean, and it had all but stopped bleeding. He gently sponged away the blood and grabbed the disinfectant.

“This is gonna sting a bit,” he warned. The girl didn’t react at all as he cleaned the wound, securing it with butterfly bandages before returning his ministrations to her face. She didn’t appear to be in any pain, but she still seemed uncomfortable at being touched by him.

“Mission objective?” This time, it was a question, and she dared to look over at him uncertainly.

“There…there aren’t any more missions…it’s over now,” he said gently. “You’re not the Soldat anymore.”

He caught the panicked look in her eye and quickly spoke up. “You didn’t fail—you’re free now. Those men won’t hurt you anymore. They won’t find you where we’re taking you.”

“Y-you’re not the handler?”

He caught the look of hopeless confusion in her eyes and resisted the urge to wrap her in his arms and comfort her.

“No.” He gently dabbed at a cut on her cheekbone. “My name is James…James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky. I used to be a Soldat, just like you.” She watched him warily, digesting this information. When she didn’t respond, he decided to press further.

“Do you remember your name? What…what people called you?”

Her eyes took on a glassy, unfocused look, and her chest began to heave. “I…I don’t know. I’m not…I can’t remember…” She flinched away from him and looked at him in fear. “I’m…I’m the Asset. I’m Soldat.”

He saw her spiraling into a panic attack. This could get dangerous—for all of them.

“It’s okay—it’s okay!” Bucky held his hands up, careful not to touch her again. “You don’t have to remember right now, we can talk about it later.”

She still looked at him fearfully, but she seemed to have calmed down. He knew she wasn’t physically afraid of him; no, she was afraid of disappointing him…of failure. Bucky got up with a sigh, pulling a blanket and a pillow from one of the storage lockers. He knew she had to be tired—he remembered how exhausted he would feel after a ‘reset’. He shivered.

“I want you to lay down now, try to get some rest.”

Bucky motioned to the remaining seats and the girl obediently laid down, stretching out her long frame. Her uniform and hands were still bloody, but he covered her with the blanket anyways; he had pushed her far enough for now. He knelt down next to her and looked at her in concern.

“If you need anything I’m going to be right up there,” he said, pointing to the cockpit. “Try to get some sleep. It’s going to be okay.”

Bucky stood and walked towards the cockpit where Nat and Steve sat, feeling her eyes follow him. He sank wearily into the crew seat, and Steve turned to look back at him and their cargo.

“How’s she doin’, Buck?”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s scared…and confused. It’s like looking in a goddamn mirror back to a year ago.”

“Do you think you can bring her back?” Steve asked softly.

“I have to try…she deserves that much, at least. You did it for me. Right now, I’m all she’s got.”

“Whatever you need, Buck, we’re here for you.”

Steve gripped his shoulder and Bucky looked at his friend gratefully. Nat turned towards him and cocked an eyebrow—he knew she didn’t agree, but at least she had the grace not to say anything. Bucky looked back at the girl; her eyes were closed, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Maybe this was going to work out after all.

*

You watched the brunette’s retreating figure cautiously. None of this seemed right. He had lied to you—he wasn’t your handler—and yet he was kind. He had touched you, tended to your wounds, cleaned you up, wanted you to rest. Everything in you screamed that this was wrong, that it was some kind of test, but something else, something deep within you said that this was okay.

He said that you were safe…what did that mean? Safe from what?

You were so confused.

You didn’t want to displease him, so you closed your eyes and feinted sleep. Bucky…he said his name was Bucky, but you couldn’t remember yours when he’d asked you. He said he had been Soldat…like you. You wondered who these people were, and where they were taking you. You wondered if this _was_ a test, and if your weakness was a failure somehow.

His eyes, so astonishingly blue, seemed familiar somehow. They were sad but kind…you felt like you had seen them before in a dream. You didn’t know why but seeing them calmed you. His touch had been gentle, and you felt something stir within you again—something long forgotten.

Your thoughts whirled in your head and you felt yourself start to drift off to sleep despite your attempts to fight it.

You were so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @constantreader85


	3. Chapter 3

**_Ten Years Ago - Siberia_ **

_You follow the Asset down the long, dark corridor, and the only sound is the thud of your boots as it echoes off the walls. You’re filthy—both of you are—but you are returning home uninjured and with the mission complete._

_A sharp right, and you enter a large room displaying a startling amount of weaponry, held in racks along the wall. A long, low table sits in the center of the room._

_You both know what to do._

_It’s not exactly remembering—it’s more like muscle memory. You both step up to the table and begin the laborious process of disarming yourselves, placing guns and knives on the table to be cleaned. After a moment of hesitation, you both reach up and remove the muzzle-like masks covering your faces, leaving those as well._

_The process is finished, and you both exit the room, continuing down the corridor once again. A left this time finds you in another room, this one smaller and utterly devoid of furnishings. You stand in the center of the room as you have been instructed, arms loosely at your sides as you await your handlers._

_The room is silent, and the only sound your enhanced hearing is able to detect is the other Asset’s slow and steady breathing. You know better than to look over at him, but from the corner of your eye you can see he’s standing just as still as you are, his long chestnut hair partially hiding his face._

_The plates in his metal arm shift slightly a split-second before the door opens, and your handlers walk in. They are flanked by another man. You don’t know him, but the strange monocle he wears looks familiar._

_“Soldat, mission report.”_

_“Mission complete,” the other Asset says. He holds up a small device, offering it to his handler. “Object retrieved, no witnesses.”_

_The man with the monocle looks pleased as he’s handed the device, but the look fades as he looks up at the both of you with a hint of disgust._

_“Clean them up and put them away. We have work to do.”_

_His disgust doesn’t bother you. You are a good Soldat, and nothing matters to you beyond completing your mission. Not even the man next to you matters—you are both blunt tools to be discarded the moment you are no longer useful._

_You both follow your handlers to another room with a small drain in the floor. Ordered to strip, you stand together in the center of the room, oblivious to each other’s nudity. The water is cold and harsh when it hits, and you stifle a shiver._

_You’re about to be much colder._

_Dressed now in your cryo-suits, you pass through the doorway to a large room, dominated by two cylindrical chambers. With a word from your handlers, you both obediently climb into the chambers. Seated on the hard leather chair, you watch as the team prepares the other Asset for cryostasis._

_The glass is lowered over the chamber, and you can hear the steady beeping of the equipment monitoring the Asset’s vitals. The beeping begins to slow as the gas is pumped into the chamber, and you are startled when you look up to see the Asset staring at you._

_His eyes are impossibly blue, and you see fear and sadness warring in them as frost gathers on the glass. He holds your gaze, and you know your own eyes are reflecting the same horror back at him. His eyes are familiar to you, as if you had seen them and been here a hundred times before. The Asset’s lips part as if to say something, but the frost covers the glass, obscuring his face as the sluggish beeping turns into a solid tone._

_“Cryostasis achieved,” a technician notes clinically as the team turns towards you._

_The chamber is lowered around you, but you don’t see it. You close your eyes, and the last thing you see in your mind is the beautiful sadness of the Asset’s eyes as the cold penetrates you._

_*_

The hand on your shoulder startled you awake, and you reacted instinctively. Before you could realize what happened you were on your feet, your hand gripping the throat of the man in blue as you pin him tightly to the wall of the aircraft. His hands gripped your wrist, but he made no attempt to pull you off.

“B-Buck,” the man choked as your fingers tightened. His eyes are wide but full of surprise instead of fear. The brunette is at your side in a second, barking an order.

“Stand down— _Stand down_!”

He had said he wasn’t your handler, yet you complied instantly. You released the man in blue and took a step back, looking uncertainly at the brunette and wondering if you had done something wrong.

_Bucky…he said his name was Bucky._

_He said there aren’t any more missions._

“What the _hell_ is going on back there?!” The red-headed woman had turned in the pilot’s seat and was shouting angrily back to the cargo area.

“We’re fine, Nat,” Bucky said as he took a step towards you. He held up his hands reassuringly and moved slowly, making no move to touch you.

“It’s okay, no one is going to hurt you,” he soothed. “This is Steve, he’s a friend. He didn’t mean to touch you.”

Steve…a friend. You watched as he picked himself up off the floor, rubbing his throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What the hell were you thinking? You know better than that,” Bucky hissed at him.

Steve looked from you to Bucky, his expression pained. “She was shivering and muttering something. I thought she was cold.”

“It was a nightmare. She’s gonna have a lot of those—you remember how I was when I first came to the Tower. Don’t try to touch her when she’s sleeping, she’s gonna react badly.”

“Yeah, Buck. I remember,” Steve said sadly. 

You watched the two men as they talked. You were pretty sure you had never seen Steve before in your life, but your stomach lurched when Bucky looked at you.

The eyes. He had the Asset’s eyes.

He said he had been a Soldat like you. Could he be the same man you remembered? The one you had been dreaming about? It was hard to think, and your hand rubbed at your temple, trying to stop the headache that was starting to throb behind your eyes. A wave of despair hits you, and you sit down heavily onto one of the seats. Everything was so confusing, and you felt utterly lost.

Bucky knelt down in front of you, dipping his head so he could see your face. “Hey—It’s okay. I know everything is confusing right now, but we’re gonna take care of you. It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”

He smiled at you, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch before you returned your gaze to the floor.

“We’re on approach, guys,” the red head called from the cockpit. “And just a heads up, Tony’s on the landing pad and he is _not_ happy.”

Bucky groaned and Steve placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll work it out, Buck. Just let me handle Stark.”

A few minutes later and the aircraft had landed on top of a large building in the middle of a city. The ramp lowered, and you could see several people walking quickly towards you. Both Bucky and Steve stepped in front of you protectively as a smaller, dark-haired man approached.

“Woah-woah-woah. Hold it right there, Cap. You’re not bringing her in here.”

“Tony, she needs our help,” Steve began, but the other man cut him off.

“Nuh uh. Manchurian Candidate over there was bad enough, and now you found another one? What’re we running here, a Hydra assassin rehab center?”

“Tony—”

“She’s a ticking time bomb, Cap. You got lucky with Barnes, but we don’t know her. We don’t—”

“I know her,” Bucky said. “She’s a victim like me, and she deserves a second chance.”

Tony opened his mouth the reply, but the red head cut him off. “Tony, give him a chance. You can put them in Bruce’s suite downstairs, if it can hold him it’ll hold her. She’s Barnes’ responsibility, and he knows what’ll happen if she goes rogue.”

Bucky looked over at you, his eyes pleading with you to behave. Tony threw up his hands in defeat.

“All right, I can see I’m out-voted here. Nat, I’m surprised at you. Get her down to Banner’s place, she doesn’t leave the room without Barnes or Rogers, preferably both.”

“And you,” he said, glowering at you, “Don’t make me regret this.”

*

Bucky pushed open the door to Banner’s suite and was pleased by what he saw. There were no windows, and the walls were made of twelve-inch steel plating, but the furnishings were modest and comfortable. Two bedrooms and a bath opened up into a small living space, complete with kitchenette. They could be comfortable here for a while.

As long as it takes, he thought to himself. He was determined. It was as if a fire had been lit within him, ever since he had recognized the girl on that botched mission a month ago in Chicago. He wanted to help her recover; the memories he was starting to recall indicated that she had meant a lot more to him than simply being a fellow Asset. But he also thought of it as a way to atone for the sins of his past, and to heal some of the broken pieces of himself that still remained.

It was going to be a long and grueling process, though. Bucky sighed.

“Nat, can you help me, um, clean her up? I want to get her some fresh clothes to wear and something to eat, too.”

Nat nodded and went to start the bath. Steve walked back into the room, dressed now in jeans and a tee shirt.

“Buck, I can watch her for a second while you change, and I’ll call up to the kitchen for some food. What do you want?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “Just some broth to start, maybe some juice. She won’t be able to handle anything else for a while.”

The Assets had been fed a disgusting but protein and nutrient-rich gruel, designed to maintain their physical and metabolic needs but nothing else. It had taken Bucky weeks to be able to stomach solid foods again, and he still became nauseous with spicy or highly flavorful foods. 

Steve nodded and picked up the phone while Bucky moved into the bedroom to change, glancing at the girl. She was still standing in the center of the room, motionless—she hadn’t been ordered to do anything else. He started to tell her she could sit on the couch, but Nat emerged from the bathroom and led the girl inside.

Bucky quickly changed into sweatpants and a tee, running a brush through his hair and tying it back. Several strands fell forward and he tucked them behind his ears—Steve had been after him to cut his hair, but he just wasn’t ready yet.

“All right Buck, foods on it’s way. If you’ve got a handle on this, I’m gonna go up and debrief Tony on the mission,” Steve said tiredly.

Bucky nodded and thanked him. Steve left just as Nat exited the bathroom, brushing a towel at her uniform in irritation.

“That girl is utterly clueless. I don’t think she’s ever taken a bath—at least, not one she remembers.”

Bucky bristled slightly at her callousness. “No, Hydra wasn’t really much for giving us the luxury of baths,” he said coldly.

Nat’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry, Barnes. I’m not that great at this touchy-feely-taking-care-of-someone stuff. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You really don’t remember her? You remembered me…”

Nat shook her head. “Her face, no, but her fighting style seemed familiar…from the Red Room…” she trailed off. She looked over at the bathroom door. “I left her soaking in there for now, if you’re good here I’m gonna go change. I’ll bring down some clean clothes she can borrow.”

Bucky looked at the door hesitantly, and Nat snorted.

“I left her underwear on, Barnes, don’t be such a prude. I don’t think she really cares anyway, the girl’s like a machine.”

Bucky nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be fine, go. I’m just…I’m just a bit nervous, I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You’ve been doing fine so far,” Nat said, flashing him a gentle smile.

She turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Now it was just him and the girl—the two Assets. Swallowing thickly, he knocked on the bathroom door and eased it open when there was no answer.

He needn’t have knocked.

The girl was sitting in the tub, her knees drawn up to her chest and staring vacantly at the wall. Her eyes were glazed and distant, but he knew behind them boiled a sea of chaos and uncertainty. Bucky remembered the feeling well. A creeping numbness, vague and random memories played back on an endless loop. The constant feeling of hopeless confusion.

“Hey, it’s just me…um, how’re you doing?”

She didn’t answer, but he hadn’t really expected her to. It was okay. If she didn’t want to talk, then he would.

Bucky took another step towards the tub. He saw Nat had washed the girl’s body, but her hair was still matted and caked with dried blood. Kneeling down next to the tub, he picked up the shampoo and a cup.

“I’m gonna wash your hair, okay? Just tell me if it’s uncomfortable or you don’t like it, and I’ll stop.”

She didn’t respond, so he picked up the cup and filled it with water. “Here—close your eyes and tilt your head back.”

The girl complied—good, she was listening to him. Bucky cupped a hand over her eyes, moving slowly and deliberately so as not to startle her. He rinsed her hair, working his fingers through the mats. Once her hair was soaked he opened the shampoo; it smelled pleasant, and he wondered idly if Nat had brought it in…it smelled a little feminine.

As he worked the lather into her hair, Bucky stole a glance down at the girl’s body and sucked in a breath in shock. She was toned and lithe, her body built for inflicting harm. But what upset him was the patchwork of scars covering her body, some old, some new. Knife and gunshot wounds marred the perfect flesh of her arms, legs, and torso, but the worst was her back.

Long scars stretched across her back, overlapping in places--evidence of the torture inflicted by Hydra when she failed. He carried his own scars, but his punishment had been different.

Bucky’s eyes burned as he gently rinsed the shampoo from her hair. It was horrifying, seeing this amount of damage inflicted on a female’s body. He and Steve bore their share of scars, but he had never seen anything like this on a woman.

The bathwater was growing cold, and the girl still hadn’t broken out of her trance. He wished he could see what was happening behind those vacant eyes, but he had a pretty good idea anyway.

“Let’s get you outta here, sweetheart, Nat’s bringing some clean clothes for you to wear.”

Bucky helped her up from the bath and guided her onto the mat so she wouldn’t fall. She moved like a zombie, and his heart clenched knowing the only world she knew was coming crashing down around her.

He was just wrapping a towel around her when he heard the door open.

“Barnes? I’ve got the clothes, and they sent me down with the food.”

“Wait here a second,” he said to the girl. She stood clutching the towel, and he walked out into the common area.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Nat said. She was shifting on her feet and looking at the ground. “I was kind of a jerk—I know it’s not her fault, the way that she is. It’s just that, with you, Steve took the brunt of it, and I didn’t have to see how damaged you really were. I think what you’re doing it a really good thing, and I want to help if I can.”

Bucky was stunned; it wasn’t like Nat to open like that. “Th-thank you, Natalia, that means a lot to me.”

“I’ll go help her get dressed,” Nat said, ducking into the bathroom. Bucky smiled faintly. Maybe helping this girl would help more than just him.

Bucky took the food into the kitchen, listening to Nat’s hushed voice from behind the bathroom door. Everything was still hot, so he took the top off the bowl of broth and set in on the counter to cool. The bathroom door creaked open, and Nat emerged with the girl in tow.

She was dressed in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, and Bucky smiled inwardly seeing they were Nat’s own clothing. The girl’s eyes darted around the room, scanning for threats and exit routes.

“I’ve got some food here, you should eat something first, and then you can sleep,” he said as Nat guided her to one of the stools positioned around the kitchen island. The girl sat, staring blankly at the bowl.

“Um, I’m gonna get outta here if you don’t need anything else, Bar—Bucky,” Nat said. Bucky caught the correction, and he smiled at her. She really was trying.

“I’ve got this, go get some sleep.”

Nat nodded, and slipped out the door. Bucky stared at it for a moment and ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. He was exhausted.

He looked over to where the girl was seated, still staring at the bowl. He walked over, picked up the spoon, and placed it in her hand.

“Please…I know you’re probably not hungry now, but you’ve got to eat something.”

The girl frowned and lifted the spoon, as if seeing it for the first time. Her hand began to shake. Bucky gently closed his fist around her hand, steadying her tremors. He reached an arm around her shoulders, surprised when she didn’t pull away.

She lifted her eyes to his, and when she spoke, it was so quiet he almost didn’t make it out.

“I know you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a lot of fun writing this, and it's been an emotional ride for me. Bucky's caring side is really beginning to show here, and although Steve is a bit clueless and Nat is a bit of a b****, I feel that helping the Reader is going to help them too. I was struggling as to whether I should use "I remember you" or "I know you" at the end, and I chose the latter since this is a direct reference to Bucky's heartbreaking confession to Pierce in CA:TWS, "But I knew him." 
> 
> Also, I've changed the MCU timeline to suit my needs, if you hadn't already guessed. This is going to roughly take place during Avengers: Age of Ultron, but without the psychotic robots. (Or Ultron...lame.) I dropped the hint on who the main antagonist is going to be (monocle-eyed Hydra scum), and the parallels between his world and Pierce's world will be revealed. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always welcome, and you can find me on Tumblr @constantreader85


	4. Chapter 4

**_One Month Earlier, Chicago, IL_ **

“You know Senator, what you’re doing here…it’s going to make a big difference. Your testimony could tip the balance and put away a lot of high-level members of Hydra.”

There Steve was, ‘Mr. Diplomacy,’ trying to talk Senator Cartwright down from the proverbial ledge. Bucky rolled his eyes. His vote was for knocking the guy out and throwing him the back of the SUV. Sam agreed with him, but Nat sided with Steve. Besides, this was his first mission…he didn’t really think he got a say.

“They’ll kill me,” Cartwright said, his eyes skittering towards the door.

“They will if you run. If you’re with us, we can protect you. You can bring them down.” Nat looked at the whimpering Senator coldly.

“O-okay…I’ll go.”

_Thank fuckin’ god._

They piled the Senator into the non-descript SUV and headed out onto the I-90, headed towards Chicago’s East Side. The Senator was a key witness in the ongoing Federal case against SHIELD; he was one of the few members of the World Security Council that had actually been willing to testify, but after several assassination attempts he was spooked. Alexander Pierce may be dead, but Hydra still lived on, and if Hydra wanted someone dead, they usually ended up that way, sooner or later.

Bucky’s eyes move unceasingly, scanning the surrounding cars and buildings for threats as Nat exited the interstate. They were headed to the abandoned TPG Drydock on the Calumet River where they had left the Quinjet; from there they would bring the Senator to the Avengers Tower where he could safely await the trial.

Gravel crunched as Nat pulled into the drive. Shuttered windows and rusted equipment loomed over the vehicle as they drove to where the Quinjet was parked next to the loading docks, half-dead sodium lights cutting weakly through the inky darkness.

Bucky didn’t like it.

It was too open, too exposed…too many places for a shooter to hide. He had voiced his concerns to Steve, but the extraction was supposed to be quiet and off the radar. The drydock was perfectly situated close to the Senator’s home and away from prying eyes.

Bucky’s metal fingers drummed against his leg anxiously as the vehicle came to a stop near the Quinjet.

“Let’s make this quick, we’re too exposed here,” he said. 

Steve exited the SUV first, raising his shield to protect the Senator. Bucky followed closely and scanned the buildings with his rifle raised. They had only made it a few feet when something flashed out of the corner of his eye.

The first shot hit the Senator in the leg, and he dropped to the ground, howling in agony. The second shot silenced him, a neat round hole appearing in the center of his chest as gore splattered the side of the vehicle. Nat grabbed the wounded man and dragged him onto the Quinjet.

Steve and Sam were shouting, but Bucky was already up and running.

“I’ve got the shooter, northeast rooftop.”

Steve was right on his heels. “I’m with you, Buck.”

“You take the left and I’ll take right,” Bucky said as he eyed the building where the shots had come from. The other buildings were too far away, and there were only two exits down from the rooftop.

Suddenly, he saw a dark figure jump the gap to the next building, easily thirty feet away.

“What the hell?”

“We’ve got an enhanced in the field!” Steve shouted into his comm.

“On your left,” Sam said, swooping low.

Gunfire erupted from the roof, but Sam blocked it, firing back at the figure. Bucky wasn’t sure if they jumped or they fell, but he saw the figure go flying off the roof, twisting like a cat in midair and landing heavily on their feet. Bucky raised his rifle and squeezed off a shot as the figure took off running. The figure ducked, and the shots sailed harmlessly overhead. Something small and round bounced along the ground, tossed almost casually in their direction.

“Grenade!” Steve shouted, clamping his shield tightly to the ground as it exploded underneath. Seeing Steve was unhurt, he pressed on.

Bucky was gaining on the retreating figure, sprinting full out now. She—he could see it was a woman now—was incredibly fast, and he was pushing himself to the limit. Sam swooped in low and shot at her, but the woman dodged his attack, snatching his wingtip and throwing him up against the building. His head slammed into the brick and he crumpled to the ground.

A knife appeared in her hand. Bucky was on her, the knife sliding harmlessly down his metal arm as he threw himself in front of Sam, knocking her back. She blocked his next hit and the knife sliced through the air, its tip grazing his vest.

Back and forth the two traded evenly matched blows. Bucky was stronger than her, but she was terribly fast, almost seeming to anticipate his attacks. He was able to land a few hits, though they hardly seemed to phase her. Blood oozed steadily from her shoulder, and he realized he must have clipped her with one of his shots.

Slowly, he forced her back towards the building, and under the dim glow from the sodium lights he got his first really good look at her. Her eyes met his briefly as she dodged his swing, and Bucky felt a shock run through him. A smooth black mask obscured the lower half of her face, but it was her eyes that stopped him cold.

He knew those eyes.

His split-second of hesitation was all she needed. The knife plunged into his thigh, the pain white hot and breaking through his daze. He felt her grip shift as she twisted the knife upward to sever his femoral artery, and he clamped down on her wrist with his metal arm, stopping her.

He squeezed his hand and felt her wrist break, and she dropped the knife, jabbing at him with an uppercut and twisting out of his grip. Steve’s shield flew through the air and she ducked as it imbedded itself in the brick wall.

Her handgun was back out and she fired at Steve, pushing him back as she edged towards the alley. Bucky pulled the knife from his leg and tried to take a step to help Steve, but his leg gave out beneath him and he fell to the ground. He lifted his rifle and sighted in on the retreating figure, squeezing off a shot just before the darkness enveloped her. He thought he heard a grunt of pain, seconds before a motorcycle roared to life. Steve ran into the alley, but the engine whined higher and gradually faded away.

“Buck, you okay?”

Steve’s face was concerned as he bent down over his friend. Bucky clenched his teeth and pressed his hand over the blood still pulsing from the leg wound.

“I’ll be fine, how’s Sam?”

“He’s got a concussion, Nat’s with him now. The Senator’s dead.”

Bucky nodded. “I know,” he said, his jaw working. “Steve? That girl…”

“She’s gone, Buck. I think she’s hit, there was a lot of blood, but she got away. That was—”

“No, it’s not that…” Bucky trailed off, his eyes distant and clouded. He looked up at Steve.

“I know her.”

*

“What do you mean, you know her?”

Nat was standing in the conference room, her hands on her hips as she eyed him narrowly. Steve had called a meeting that morning to discuss the mission. It had been a spectacular failure, but that wasn’t what had kept Bucky up all night.

It was the girl—he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He remembered her eyes, the way she fought; he had even dreamed about her before and seeing her yesterday had been like seeing a ghost.

“I…I know her, from before. From Hydra.”

Sam nodded. “She was wearing that same mask you used to, and the cut of her uniform was very similar to yours. Hell, even the way she fought, it was like—”

“It was like fighting me,” Bucky finished.

“How is that possible?”

Bucky sighed. “Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier.”

Silence.

“How…how many more are there, Buck?” Steve asked quietly, but the super soldier just shook his head.

“I don’t know, I just remember her. I think we used to work together for a while.”

He took a deep breath to steady himself, because he knew what he was about to say wasn’t going to be popular.

“I want to find her…I want to find her and bring her in. I want to help her.”

“Help her with what? She just killed a Senator, Barnes.” Nat rolled her eyes at him, her mouth turned down in disapproval.

“Yeah, and how many people have I killed?” Bucky held up his hand as Steve started to protest. “You still helped me, you brought _me_ back, and I want to help bring her back. I can’t just leave her out there, not now. Nobody deserves to be…to be used like that.”

“You know she probably returned back to whatever Hydra rock she crawled out from under, and she’s probably back on ice now. She’s not going to be easy to find,” Nat said, shaking her head.

“Then I’ll track her down, however long it takes. Just let me do this.” Bucky looked at Steve, his eyes pleading but resolute.

Steve sighed. “You really think you can do it? Are you sure you can handle this?”

“I have to try, Steve.”

Steve was silent a moment, staring at his friend as if searching for a weakness in his resolve.

“All right, Buck…I’m in.” He looked over at Nat, who shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

“Count me in too, someone’s got to make sure you two idiots don’t get yourselves killed.”

*

**_Present Day_ **

“I know you.”

Your voice was hoarse from disuse and you spoke hesitantly, as if you were unsure of the fact yourself. Because you _weren’t_ sure, not really; you couldn’t trust your own mind, yet there was something so vaguely familiar about him. His eyes, his touch, even his scent…somehow, you knew him.

The brunette’s eyes widened, and he exhaled sharply at your admission. He opened and closed his mouth as if unsure of what to say.

“What do you remember?” His voice was soft, not pushing or demanding. Eyes flicking back and forth between yours, he waited for you to answer. He had released his hold on your shoulders, but he still held your hand firmly, the touch oddly grounding to you.

_Bucky…he said his name is Bucky._

You didn’t know him as Bucky; that name was unfamiliar to you. Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember, a throbbing headache starting to build behind your eyes.

“Y-your eyes. I remember your eyes. You looked at me. You were sad…and scared…and then…cold. It was so cold.” You shivered, and Bucky’s hand returned to your shoulders.

“Shh…it’s all right, that’s good you remembered. Don’t try to push too hard, just let it come.”

“I don’t—I _can’t_ ,” you pleaded. The headache was building, pounding with each beat of your heart. “What happened to me? I feel…wrong.”

You gasped and pressed your forehead to the cool counter, covering your head with your arms. The bowl tipped and the broth spilled onto the counter, but neither of you noticed.

“Does your head hurt?” Bucky asked. His fingers grazed the back of your neck, gently rubbing soothing circles. It felt good.

You nodded. You felt so weak. None of this seemed right, and your breath hitched with fear in anticipation of your punishment for disobeying. Yet a small part of you, a voice long silenced but growing stronger, insisted that this was good—this was right.

“I know,” Bucky said. He chuckled darkly and ran a hand through his hair. “The headaches…they hurt like a bitch, but they’ll get better. It’s part of the remembering.”

His mouth twitched up in the corners, and he looked at you sadly. It wasn’t pity, what was in his eyes, it was understanding.

“Maybe tomorrow, if you feel up to it, we have a doct—a person here who can help with the headaches, maybe see what else is going on with you. I’d like you to meet her.”

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at the broth as it dripped onto the floor.

“Wh-what am I?”

Bucky’s face fell. He let out a choked sob and cautiously reached a hand towards your face, gently tilting your eyes to meet his.

“You…you’re just lost, but we’ve found each other now. It’s going to be okay. I was lost once too, and there were people here who helped me remember. I’m going to be right here with you, every step of the way. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s thumb gently grazed over your cheekbone, his eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, feeling a familiar tingle down your spine.

“Do you remember me?” you asked.

Bucky hesitated, and you cringed inwardly, waiting for the reprimand. You were being bold, questioning him like that, but so far he had only encouraged you.

“I…I remember some things. It’s still…I have trouble remembering things, but I _know_ you. We were important to each other, I think.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your headache had thankfully retreated, and now you just felt tired. Bucky seemed to have noticed, because he stood up and placed the dishes in the sink, mopping up the spilled broth with a paper towel.

“I think that’s enough for today, I know you’re tired. Do you think you want to go lay down?”

You were unused to being asked questions, let alone what you wanted, so you just nodded. Bucky seemed pleased. He led you over to one of the doors flanking the bathroom.

“Okay, um, this is your bedroom here, where you sleep, but you don’t have to stay in there if you don’t want to. You know where the bathroom is, and you can come out here to the kitchen and common space if you want.”

He seemed nervous as you hesitantly stepped into the room. It was the nicest room you had even seen, a large soft bed in the center with an overstuffed chair and table in the corner. There weren’t any windows, but tastefully serene art hung on the walls, inviting you to inspect them further. It was too much and it made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t want to upset him if this was where he wanted you to sleep.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

Bucky nodded. “Good. All right then, I’ll be in the room over there,” he said, pointing to the second bedroom. “If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know and I’ll be right here to help you.”

He smiled at you reassuringly, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch in an attempt to return the gesture. It felt foreign. You stood silently in the center of the room as he left, closing the door but not shutting it completely.

You were alone.

Immediately, you walked to the door and opened it, pressing it tightly against the wall. It started to spring closed and you grabbed the nearest thing you could find, the chair, and shoved it against the door, pinning it in place. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of being stuck in the room with the door shut made you panic.

Next, you considered the bed. It was nice—too nice for you. There was no way you could sleep in it. You couldn’t remember where you slept before, but this felt wrong. Honestly, everything felt wrong—you weren’t supposed to make decisions for yourself.

You pulled a thin sheet from the bed, and after a moment’s hesitation, you took the pillow as well. Piling them into the corner, you curled into a ball and pulled the sheet over you.

You stared at the open doorway, waiting for him, someone—anyone—to come and punish you. The minutes dragged by. Your eyes began to get heavy as the events of the day caught up with you, and you slid blessedly into sleep.

*

Bucky sat down heavily on the bed, his head spinning. He felt physically and emotionally spent. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago they had been breaking into the Hydra Facility; it seemed like several lifetimes had passed since then.

He thought the girl had made incredible progress so far. After she had slipped into that semi-catatonic state he had worried she wouldn’t be able to snap out of it, but she was talking to him now. She wasn’t referring to herself in the third person anymore, she didn’t flinch away from contact…she had even asked him questions.

Bucky knew not to be too hopeful. He knew that there was still a long road ahead, fraught with nightmares, relapses, and dissociative periods. He lay back on the bed, rubbing at his arm where the metal met his flesh—it ached.

He felt his eyes growing heavy, and he softly asked JARVIS to wake him if she had a nightmare. It was strange, talking to the AI, but it was an interesting piece of technology, and he was glad it was there to help watch over the girl.

He must have fallen asleep, because it seemed like seconds later the AI’s soft voice was rousing him.

_“Sergeant Barnes, I’m sorry to disrupt you, but the girl in the other room is in distress. She appears to be having a nightmare.”_

Bucky was instantly awake, looking over at the clock—three a.m.

“Thank you JARVIS.”

_“Anytime, sir.”_

As Bucky stood, he began to hear the muffled sounds of a struggle coming from the second bedroom. His pace quickened and he entered the doorway, noting that it had been jammed open by the chair. The bed was empty, and he looked around wildly in panic before he spotted the jumble of blankets, laying in the corner.

She was shaking uncontrollably, her breaths coming in ragged, panting gasps as she writhed on the floor. Bucky’s heart clenched as she went rigid, a guttural scream wrenching itself loose and tearing him in two. Her arm collided with the nightstand and the lamp fell to the floor, shattering.

He dropped to his knees next to her, trying to block her from the broken glass but careful not to touch her. She was breathing fast—too fast—and he needed to calm her down before she hurt herself.

“Shh—It’s all right, you’re having a nightmare…” Bucky bent over her, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing despite the panic he felt building inside him. She couldn’t hear him, not wherever she was.

“Please, you have to wake up!” he shouted at her. “Please?”

Bucky didn’t know how to reach her—not without touching her. He couldn’t handle this…should he call for Steve? His mind spun in useless panic as she screamed again. Whatever she was reliving, it was bad.

Suddenly, he remembered. A large hand, warm and soothing at his back, a soft voice in his ear—Steve. He remembered what Steve used to do when he had a violent nightmare.

The girl was curled in the fetal position, facing away from him. Bucky opened his flesh hand and placed it near the small of her back as she rolled towards him. She met his resistance and shuddered, but he didn’t move. Gradually she began to relax as the heat from his hand melted into her skin, and her breathing eased.

Bucky moved his hand slowly, rubbing up and down her back as she relaxed into his touch. She was trembling and still hadn’t woken, but she hadn’t flinched away either. She whimpered and clutched the blanket, and his heart broke. He couldn’t leave her like this.

Slowly, he laid down on the floor next to her. He didn’t reach his arm around her, even though he wanted to comfort her—he was worried she might feel constricted and panic. Instead, he lay curled against her, one hand against her back as he continued to rub soothing circles. The heat from his body relaxed her, and her breathing slowed as she fell into a deep sleep at last.

Bucky felt his own eyes growing heavy, calmed by the feel of her lying next to him. It seemed oddly familiar somehow, a half-remembered dream.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: None
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This is a very dark story, please heed the chapter and series warnings. There will be fluff and healing, but there’s a lot of Hydra darkness to wade through first.

At first, Bucky wasn’t sure where he was. He blinked his eyes a few times before he recognized Banner’s apartment. He hadn’t been down here in months—wait—did he have another episode? He couldn’t have; he felt way too lucid to be coming down after a relapse.

The floor was hard, and his arm was curled awkwardly beneath him. Groaning, he rolled over to try to ease the stiffness, but he stopped when he felt a warm body lying next to his.

Suddenly, it all came flooding back. The girl. He had laid down on the floor next to her after her nightmare, and he must have fallen asleep. Turning slowly so he wouldn’t wake her, Bucky looked over at her.

She almost looked like a different person now, sleeping so peacefully without a hint of stress or fear on her features. Seeing her like this made him smile. She was quite pretty; color had returned to her cheeks and her lips were slightly parted, her delicate features relaxed. A lock of her hair had fallen across her forehead and he started to reach over to brush it back, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to startle her awake.

Bucky glanced over at the clock and saw it was time to get up. Today was a big day; he would let the girl sleep as long as she wanted to, but there was a lot to be done first.

He carefully sat up and grabbed his phone, padding out into the kitchen to make coffee--lots of coffee. There were several missed texts from Steve and Nat but no missed calls, so they couldn’t have been that worried.

_Steve: Morning, Buck. How did it go last night?_

_Bucky: Good. Really good, actually. You can come down when you’re ready, I’m going to hop in the shower._

_Bucky: Keep it quiet, she’s still sleeping._

The shower felt great, and he felt fully refreshed as he walked back into the kitchen, toweling off his long hair. He sat at the island, texting back and forth with Banner and Dr. Cho about the plans for the day. They wanted to examine her today; they needed to find out what Hydra had done to her and how much damage it had caused. Bucky was hoping they might even be able to find a clue as to who she was…before Hydra had taken her.

They were also worried about the girl having a tracking device implanted somewhere; Bucky’s had been located in his metal arm. Both the Quinjet and the Tower had signal jammers that were constantly scrambling outside signals, so as long as she was here she was safe, but they still didn’t want to wait too long to find it. A very necessary process, but one that was sure to be stressful for everyone involved.

Bucky shivered as he remembered his first few days at the Tower. Those days were pretty much a blur, but Steve was the one constant he remembered. His own examination had been traumatic to say the least, and in the end they had to strap him down and sedate him for most of it. Bucky wanted to spare the girl from that as much as possible; he feared that it would undo the progress they had made.

A light knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he opened it to see Steve, carrying six large bags.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Bucky said, taking two. “What’s in here, anyway?”

“The food’s from me, I raided the kitchen last night for anything I thought she would be able to eat; I know they haven’t had a chance to stock this place for you guys yet. Don’t worry, I threw in some stuff for you, too,” Steve said as they carried the backs into the kitchen.

He started putting the food away in the cupboards and fridge and nodded at the remaining bags that Bucky had started to unpack.

“The rest of that is from Nat, believe it or not. She went out last night and found a couple stores that were open, and she got clothes, toiletries…I don’t even know what all’s in there, but it looks like everything the girl will need for a couple weeks.”

“Nat did all this?”

“She’s done a one-eighty since yesterday, I don’t know.” Steve shook his head in disbelief. “I know she was against this at first, but I think seeing the girl here, and how lost she is…it’s a lot like when you first got here, and seeing another go through it…it’s rough.”

“I know. It’s going to be hard on everyone, but its’ the right thing to do.” He straightened, folding the clothes into neat piles. “Now we’ve just gotta get Stark on board.”

“He’ll come ‘round, Buck, don’t worry. Oh—I almost forgot.”

Steve pulled something from the bottom of his bag, and Bucky felt himself choke up. It was a notebook and a pen, just like his. Steve had gotten him the notebook to write down the bits and pieces of memories as they came to him, and now he had done the same for her. Bucky’s mouth twitched, and he looked up at Steve.

Seeing his friend at a loss for words, Steve pulled him close in a brief but tight embrace. He nodded to the bedroom door.

“How’s she doing?”

Bucky sniffed and blinked away the wetness that had started to form in his eyes. “She’s doing good, all things considered. Last night was a little rough, she had a pretty violent nightmare, but I was able to calm her down so she could get some sleep. She’s talking a little now, making eye contact…she even asked me a couple questions, which is really good.”

He paused. “She said she knows me. Not—I don’t think she completely remembers me, but I think she’s starting to.”

“Do you remember her? I mean, _how much_ do you remember about her?”

“Bits and pieces, it’s all jumbled.” Bucky frowned, trying to think. “Things she does, the way she looks and moves, I’ll get these little flashes, but it’s all mixed up in my head. I remember going on… _missions_ with her, I remember training with her…but it’s more than that. I just get this feeling that she used to be someone important to me, but I can’t remember why.”

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll come, Buck, just give it time.” He straightened and took a sip of his coffee, leveling a glance over the rim of the cup. “How’re _you_ doing with all this?”

Bucky sighed. “It’s been, I don’t know…ups and downs, I guess. I’m not gonna lie, if I wasn’t so focused on getting her out I probably would have freaked out pretty bad at the Hydra Base, seeing all of that again. Seeing her in that chair…her screams…” he swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, composing himself.

“Having her here, though, and seeing her make her way out of the darkness, it’s been good—it’s been helpful. We’re taking a weapon away from Hydra, because that’s what she is—that’s what I was.” Bucky shook his head. “It’s good to be doing something positive for once instead of killing. I’m so _tired_ of killing.”

Steve nodded sadly. They had both been doing this for a long time.

“One thing bothers me, though,” Bucky continued with a frown. “The Red Book. I was so focused on getting her out of there I didn’t even think to take it.”

“Red Book? You mean what her handler was holding?”

Bucky nodded. “It has the activation trigger words for each Winter Soldier in it. As far as I know there’s just the one. I should have taken that damn thing and burned it. They’ll have moved it by now.”

“Well, we’ll just have to keep an eye out for it as we roll though these Hydra Bases over the next few months.”

“Have you found any more?”

Steve shrugged. “We’ve come across a name in the intel Nat grabbed from the last Base. Baron Struker, he appears to be the new head of Hydra in Pierce’s absence. It seems the two had some history together, but we haven’t uncovered much yet. Nat and Clint are chasing down leads on Struker, hopefully we’ll find something.”

*

You sat in the corner of the room, your arms around your knees and the blanket pulled around your shoulders as you listened to the low murmur of voices coming from the kitchen. You had been awake awhile, but you weren’t sure if you should go out there—you hadn’t been told what to do yet. Besides, you needed the time to think.

It was a strange sensation. You couldn’t remember ever being able to think this clearly, yet at the same time it was like trying to see through a thick fog. Everything in your mind seemed doubled—a strange duplicity of what seemed right, and what seemed wrong.

You were starting to remember things, and after the nightmares last night, you weren’t sure if you wanted to. There had been pain—so much pain—and fear. There were men in white coats, men in uniforms, and they were doing things to you; terrible things that slowly stripped away every last inch of your humanity. One fragmented memory had drifted into another, each more confusing than the last. And there had been horror. Blood, richly crimson, stained your hands and the sound of screams filled your ears.

Had you done these things, or had you only witnessed them?

You were so confused, but in the light of day you felt strangely calm. You remembered a soft voice soothing over your frenzied mind and a warm heat on your back, encircling you and quieting the demons. At one point you woke up, and you saw him—Bucky—lying next to you, asleep. Your first instinct had been to move away, but his presence was so comforting to you that just stayed where you were, perhaps even drawing a little closer to him.

That was his voice you could hear in the kitchen, along with the blond man—Steve—you remembered his name was Steve. Bucky hadn’t punished you yet, and Steve seemed nice, so you decided to take another chance. Standing, you smoothed your clothes and ran your fingers through your long hair to straighten it.

The voices stopped when they saw you peek around the corner and step out into the living space tentatively. Bucky visibly brightened.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?”

“Um, good?” To be honest you felt confused, hungry, and still tired, but that seemed like what he wanted to hear.

“Okay, uh, are you hungry? We can make you something to eat if you want to sit down,” Bucky said, pulling some items out of the cupboards. He seemed eager and a little nervous.

You shifted on your feet. “I _am_ hungry, but…I need to use the bathroom. Is that okay?”

Bucky blushed. “Oh, of course, yeah—go ahead, I’ll get the food ready.”

“Oh! Here, you might want to freshen up.” Steve said, standing suddenly. He thrust out a small canvas bag at you, and you took a step back, your eyes going wide and your hands raising defensively.

In a heartbeat, Bucky was around the counter, ready to place himself between you and Steve. He stopped when he saw you slowly reach your hand out and take the bag from Steve, never breaking eye contact.

“Th-thank you,” you said before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door firmly. You could still hear their muffled conversation behind the closed door as you took a few deep breaths to steady yourself.

“Jesus, Buck, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…I’m just a little jumpy around her.”

“It’s okay, Steve. I’m nervous too. It’s so strange, being on this side of things. On the one hand, I’m worried about screwing things up with her, and on the other, it’s like _I’m_ the one who’s just gotten free from Hydra. It’s like I’m going through it again.”

“You’re doing just fine, Buck, a damn sight better than I did, in fact. I think it helps that you know what she’s gone through…there were so many times where I was just so lost with you, and scared, and I didn’t know what to do to help you.”

“It’s hard, even I’m not sure what to do half the time. Everything she’s ever known, everything she thinks is real…she’s finding out it was all a lie. There’s no handbook on how to deal with a thing like that, but for what it’s worth I think you did a pretty good job of it.”

Steve huffed. “You don’t have to say that, but thank you. And I’m right here with you, Buck—both of you—whatever you need.”

You turned away from the door. Hearing their words, spoken when you were out of earshot, reassured you about their intentions and allowed you to believe, just a little, that maybe this was real. That this was right.

Stepping up to the sink you hesitantly opened the canvas bag Steve gave you. Inside was a toothbrush, toothpaste, lotion, a hairbrush, hair ties, and dozens of other toiletry items you didn’t even recognize. You brushed your teeth and your hair, braiding it down your back quickly with hands that seemed to operate on their own. You used the moisturizer and even some vanilla-scented Chapstick, which seemed luxurious. Feeling refreshed, you used the bathroom and washed your hands before unlocking the door and stepping back into the kitchen.

Bucky had his back to you, but he turned when he heard you enter. His eyes widened slightly, and he smiled and nodded to the chairs around the kitchen island.

“Have a seat, your breakfast is almost ready.”

You sat, and he handed you a glass and a bowl. “Here, it’s just apple juice and oatmeal, but if they go down okay we can try something else later.”

Hesitantly you tasted the apple juice. It was tangy and sweet, and almost too much for you to handle, but it seemed familiar. The oatmeal, on the other hand, was bland but filling, and you ate it quickly. You were still starving.

“Could I have some more, please? It was really good.”

Bucky quickly made you some more and handed it to you, chuckling. “Here you go, but maybe slow down with this one. I know that Hydra food wasn’t exactly memorable, but you’ll get sick if you eat too fast.”

His laughter was infectious, and you felt yourself smile cautiously back at him. He was a handsome man and solidly built, yet he moved with a quiet grace that betrayed his strength and speed. When he smiled you weren’t sure if it was the same man you remembered from before. His eyes, though, they were the same…they were what made it real.

Bucky really _had_ been the other Asset you remembered.

“You look good this morning, a lot better than you did yesterday,” he said, smiling at you. He nodded in the direction of the bedroom. “Um, if you want, you can change after you finish…Steve’s in there right now, he’s putting away some new clothes for you.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Bucky didn’t seem to mind your silence, he seemed to expect it, somehow. He took a sip of his coffee and leaned on the counter, looking at you.

“So, we’ve got a couple things planned for today, and if it’s okay, Steve is going to help us out with them.” He looked as if he were waiting for an answer, so you nodded. “I have a couple of friends that I would like you to meet; I mentioned them last night, they can help you with the headaches and make sure you’re okay after everything you’ve been through.”

Was he talking about a doctor? You didn’t like doctors. You felt the blood drain from your face and your hands began to shake. Bucky must have noticed your discomfort, because he took your hand in both of his, the contrasting temperatures of his flesh and metal hands quieting you.

“It’s okay, they’re not gonna hurt you. I’ll be right there with you the entire time, we’ll go nice and slow. We can wait a couple days if you’re really uncomfortable with this, but we shouldn’t wait too long.”

Steve came out of the bedroom looking concerned. He sat at the counter, maintaining a respectful distance between you. You looked at him but didn’t move away.

“Hey,” Bucky said, squeezing your hand. “Do you trust me?”

You weren’t sure if he knew what he was asking, because he was asking a lot. You weren’t sure if you _could_ trust him completely yet—you weren’t sure about anything right now. But Bucky had been nothing but kind and gentle with you, and you felt you could trust him in this.

“Yes,” you said quietly.

Bucky’s lips tightened in a line and he exhaled sharply. Your admission must have meant a lot to him. He looked at you, his grey-blue eyes flicking back and forth between yours.

“I promise you, no one will hurt you here. You can tell us if something makes you uncomfortable, or if you don’t like something. You can tell us no. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You looked down at the table, absorbing everything Bucky had just said to you. It seemed too good to be true, yet you believed him. You really did.

“Okay…I’ll do it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Anxiety, Depression, Medical Procedures, Murder/Execution, PTSD
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This is a very dark story, please heed the chapter and series warnings. There will be fluff and healing, but there’s a lot of Hydra darkness to wade through first. **This chapter in particular contains a public execution.**

Bucky knew he had been pushing it, asking for her trust, but this was going to be difficult and he had to know where he stood with the girl. He felt incredibly surprised and grateful to have her trust, especially so soon.

_Don’t get ahead of yourself, Barnes, this could easily change that._

Bucky, Steve, and the girl exited the elevator and walked down the hallway towards the lab. The girl was wary of Steve, but his presence didn’t seem to bother her, even after his slip-up this morning. Bucky remembered quite a few of those when he first came to the Tower, but the girl appeared to be handling it all pretty well, considering.

They reached the doors of the medical center, and Steve held the door for them. Bucky spotted Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho over in the corner of the lab, and he steered the girl in that direction.

That morning, Bucky had made a few requests of the two doctors, trying to make this as easy as possible for everyone, and he was glad to see that they had listened to him. Both doctors were wearing civilian clothes, and all unnecessary medical equipment had been put away.

“Hi Bucky. Hi Steve,” Banner greeted them warmly. “Glad you guys could make it. Hello, uh…I’m Bruce.”

He waved awkwardly in the girl’s direction, and Bucky felt a pang—he didn’t even know the girl’s name to introduce her properly. She tensed, and he briefly placed a reassuring hand at the small of her back. Dr. Cho stepped forward, holding out her hand to the girl. To Bucky’s surprise, the girl took her hand hesitantly.

Maybe this was going to be okay after all.

“Hi, I’m Helen.” Her smile was warm and friendly, and it seemed to put the girl at ease. “It’s nice to meet you. You don’t have to be afraid, Bruce and I just want to help you. Bucky said you’ve been having headaches?”

The girl nodded. She didn’t hold eye contact for long, and her gaze dropped to the floor.

“That’s okay,” Helen said gently. “It happens when you remember things after going through trauma like you have. Bucky had headaches too when he first got here.”

To an outsider, it might have sounded like they were talking to a child. The girl was no idiot, Bucky knew that, but right now her vulnerability and fear had reduced her emotional state to that of a child. A fully-grown, lethal child who could snap at any second.

Bucky could see the girl starting to tense up, her eyes skittering towards the exit. He placed his hand on the small of her back again, but this time she flinched away. His jaw clenched. It looked like this was going to go one of two ways; either she was going to lose it like he did, or she was going to hold it all in and suffer in silence.

“Besides the headaches, are you in any pain right now?” Helen asked.

The girl shook her head. The atmosphere in the exam room was tense, and all eyes were upon her.

Bucky spoke up. “She said, um, after the mission yesterday, that she has some broken ribs on the left side, and there was a cut on her right arm that I treated.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” Helen turned and addressed the girl. “Is it okay if I take your shirt off so I can look at your injuries?”

The girl nodded and took off her outer shirt. Bucky was surprised to see the cut on her arm was almost completely healed; she seemed to heal much faster than he or Steve did. She shivered as Helen probed her ribs gently.

“The ribs seem to be healing nicely, and so has the laceration. I’d say she probably has a faster rate of healing that either of you,” Helen noted, glancing up at Steve and Bucky. 

“Good. We’d like to do a routine exam, to see if we can find out what they did to you and maybe even who you are. It won’t take too long, we can do most of it in the scanner. Bucky can stay right here with you the whole time. Is that okay?”

The girl nodded, and Helen continued. “All right then, if you could just sit here, I’ll grab a quick set of vitals and some bloodwork, and we can get started.”

The girl balked as Helen pointed to a hospital bed, but Bucky breathed a sigh of relief when she obediently sat down. He sat next to her, turning towards the girl so she could see his face.

“Buck, what do you want me to do?” Steve asked, sounding lost.

“Um, just stay here…just in case we need you.”

Bucky turned back to the girl, who was trembling slightly as she watched Helen and Bruce with wary eyes.

“Hey…it’s okay, they’re not going to hurt you. Don’t look at them, just look right at me. It’s gonna be all right.”

She turned towards him, her eyes glassy and distant. Bucky understood her fear all too well. The mind-wipe chair and cryostasis process didn’t hold a candle to the horrors of Hydra’s medical ward. He vividly remembered waking up, strapped to the gurney, his left arm gone as they pumped the toxic serum into his veins.

The burning agony. One moment fearing he would die and the next moment fearing he wouldn’t--that the pain would never stop. Each subsequent return to the ward for repairs or ‘adjustments’ only brought new terrors. Only this time he was the Asset, and a good Soldat doesn’t react physically to pain.

He could scream, though…they didn’t seem to mind that at all.

In a way, it had almost made it a little easier to bear the pain; when the Asset took over, Bucky had been a backseat driver in his own body. He still felt everything, but the programming dictated his responses…in those moments, he gladly gave in as the Asset took control. Now, though…now the Asset was gone, and the girl had nothing between her and the fear and pain. It was something she was going to have to learn to control, just like he had.

Bucky held her hand and he felt his own empathetic anxiety start to build as Helen collected the girl’s vitals. He locked eyes with her, and she seemed to calm down a little.

“All done with that part,” Helen said gently. “Now if you’ll just lie back, we’ll get some blood samples.”

Helen lifted the cover off a stainless steel tray where the surgical instruments were laid out and grabbed the vials and needles for the blood sample. The girl’s eyes followed her movements, and when she saw what was on the tray she cringed and scooted closer to Bucky.

“Hey—eyes on me.” He gently placed his hand along the side of her face and turned her head so she was looking at him.

Her pupils were dilated with terror, and she was visibly shaking now. Helen tightened the tourniquet around the girl’s arm and he felt her tense. Bucky rubbed his fingers softly against her temple as he maintained a slight pressure on the side of her head to keep her looking at him.

“Shh…I’m right here, I’ve got you. I know this is hard, just keep looking at me…that’s it, right at me.”

“Bucky, I know you’re trying, but she’s got to calm down. She’s shaking too hard for me to get a sample,” Helen said.

Bucky’s heart ached to see the girl this afraid, but he was at a loss. He didn’t know how to help her through this, not when he himself felt anxious. He glanced around the room, looking for anything that might help, when his eyes landed on Steve.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

He jerked his head towards Steve. “Hey, you see that big blond idiot in the corner over there? Want to hear about the first time I met him?”

Bucky launched into his story, his voice soft and low. He talked animatedly, smiling at the girl as he kept her face turned towards him, brushing his thumb gently against her temple. Even Steve went along with the idea and threw in a couple anecdotes of his own. Gradually her trembling subsided as she was drawn into their stories.

“All done,” Helen said, with no small amount of relief in her voice.

Bucky released the girl and smiled. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no…you did just fine. Hell, you made it farther than I did when I first got here. I’m really proud of you.”

She met his eyes and then stared down at the sheets on the bed. Bucky sighed and ran his hand through his hair. She seemed a little more distant than before, but so far it didn’t look like any of their progress had been undone.

“Just the scan left now, and then we’ll be finished.” Helen tilted the bed flat and gestured for the girl to lie back. She looked at Bucky in confusion, but Helen continued. “It’ll just take a few second, nothing’s going to touch you this time. Bucky, you can’t touch her either, but she can turn her head to look at you.”

Bucky looked up at the scanner. He didn’t remember this part at all, and he assumed he had already been sedated by this point. Probably for good reason—big, scary rotating machinery next to his head would have freaked him out pretty bad.

The girl stared at him as Helen powered the machine up, and Bucky noticed with horror that it made almost the exact same sound that the mind-wipe chair did. The girl noticed it too.

Her eyes screwed shut and her chest heaved as she struggled with every fiber of her being not to get up and run. Bucky watched the machine’s progress as it scanned, creating a 3D image of the girl’s body on Helen’s screen. He winced when he saw how fast her heartrate was; she was absolutely terrified.

Finally, it was over, and the girl sat up as Helen and Bruce talked amongst themselves, reviewing the scan. She was drenched in sweat and still shaking as Bucky helped her put her outer shirt back on. He gently rubbed a soothing hand across her shoulders; she didn’t lean into his touch, but she didn’t pull away either, so he considered that a win.

“Uh, Bucky, could you come here for a minute?”

Bucky didn’t like Banner’s tone, and he looked uneasily between Steve and the girl.

“Um…is it okay if Steve sits with you for a minute? I have to go talk to Bruce.”

She nodded, and he traded places with Steve.

“What’s up, Bruce…something wrong?” he asked worriedly.

“We found the tracker, but it’s not going to be easy to get to,” Helen said quietly, manipulating the scan and zooming in. “It’s located just above her hip, deep in the muscle under the exterior abdominal wall. It’s going to have to be surgically removed. We’ll have to put her under.”

Bucky swore under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl’s head turn towards them, and he wondered if she could hear them. If her hearing was as enhanced as his was, then she could.

He looked back at her. How was he going to explain this without scaring her? The girl was looking down at the floor as Steve talked to her quietly, and despite the tension he felt, Bucky smiled seeing the two of them together. They weren’t touching, Steve seemed to have learnt his lesson with that, but she was listening to him, he could tell. Bucky walked over and knelt down in front of her. He started to speak, but to his surprise, she cut him off.

“Can I use the bathroom again?”

“W-well, yeah…are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just need to use the bathroom again.” She sat very still, not meeting his eyes.

“It’s right over there,” Helen said, pointing to the closed door.

Without another word, the girl stood up and walked into the bathroom, and they heard the lock snick shut behind her.

***

You leaned against the door and took several deep breaths to steady yourself. You had heard every single word they said.

You couldn’t take any more; Bucky had been the only thing tethering you to reality, and you barely made it through as it was. It both surprised and scared you how quickly and completely you were trusting him. Bucky had said you could tell them no, but you also saw in his eyes that this would have to be done eventually. You wanted to believe him when he said no one would hurt you here, but you didn’t think you could handle one more second in that room.

So you had taken matters into your own hands; it was a huge risk, but no one had punished you yet.

You opened your hand, where you had palmed a scalpel when Steve wasn’t looking. He seemed nice, but he was easily fooled, unlike Bucky. If Bucky had been there, you weren’t sure if you could’ve gotten away with it. He seemed to anticipate your every move, almost like he knew what you were thinking.

They said the tracker needed to come out. You wanted it out; you weren’t sure what this place was or who they were, but it was better than where you came from, and you didn’t want your handlers to find you. You needed to make this quick—they would get suspicious soon.

You probed just above your hip, where the tracker had been located in the image. Sure enough, you could feel something there if you pressed hard enough. Using the bathroom mirror as a reference, you grit your teeth, touched the scalpel to your abdomen, and began to cut.

***

“How’re you doin’, Buck?” Steve asked as Bucky sat down next to him.

He ran a hand though his hair and sighed. “Exhausted…I feel like I just went through all that instead of her. I hate seeing her like this, so scared. I don’t know how we’re gonna get through this next part.”

“Little by little. You’re doing a great job with her.”

Bucky closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Steve was a little worried. Helping the girl was helping Bucky, he knew, but it was also taking a lot out of him. He was doing so well with her, and Steve was proud of the progress they had made, but he knew Bucky couldn’t do this by himself. He would have to talk to Nat and see if they could give him a hand.

Steve reached an arm around his friend, and Bucky leaned into him. He heard voices out in the hall and looked up to see Tony and Nat enter the medical wing.

“We just came down to see how everything was going,” Nat said. Tony looked around a minute, his eyes settling on Bucky.

“Where’s the girl?”

“She’s in the bathroom, she needed a minute,” Bucky said, opening his eyes and sitting up.

“How’d it go? How is she?” Nat seemed genuinely concerned.

Bucky sighed. “Better than expected, but we’re not done yet.”

He got up and walked over to where Helen and Bruce were discussing the scan, and Tony and Nat followed. Steve half-listened as Bucky got them caught up on the day’s events. He gazed aimlessly around the room, and his eyes settled on the stainless steel tray near the bed, it’s surgical instruments still exposed.

One was missing.

“Helen, are you missing a tool here? There’s an empty spot,” he said, pointing to the tray.

“I laid those out myself, they were all there a minute ago…” she said, walking over.

Bucky’s head shot up. “What’s missing?”

“A scalpel.”

Bucky paused for a fraction of a heartbeat, his eyes going wide in realization. In a few strides, he was at the bathroom door.

“It’s me, open up,” he said, hammering on the door. “C’mon, I don’t want to have to break this door dow—”

The lock clicked and the door opened, and Steve took a step back. The girl was standing there, one hand pressed to her side. Blood seeped through her fingers, but she stood steadily on her feet. She looked at Bucky and held her other hand out; on her open palm rested the tracker and the scalpel, the handle facing away from her.

“Can we be done now? I…I would like to be done now.” Her voice was barely audible.

Bucky let out half a sob and took them from her, handing them carefully to Steve. He grabbed a towel and gently lifted the girl’s hand and pressed it to her side. There was surprisingly little blood for such a deep incision; the girl seemed to have known what she was doing.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered.

Steve glanced over at him. Tony’s jaw was clenched, his face livid.

“Helen, take care of that,” Tony said, gesturing to the girl’s wound. “You two, I need a word.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, and Steve saw the panicked look in the girl’s eyes. He knew that look, he’d seen it on Bucky before--she thought she was going to be punished.

Bucky was starting to flounder; he had to do something. Steve gently took the towel from Bucky’s hand and placed the girl’s hand over it, keeping it in place.

“It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve said. “Helen and Bruce are going to patch you up, Tony just wants to talk to me and Bucky for a minute. You’ll be okay with them, yeah?”

To his relief, the girl nodded. He turned, addressing Helen. “Is she going to need stitches?”

“With her rate of healing, I think we can get by without them.”

Steve nodded. “Good. Bucky, she’s going to be fine, let’s just step over here and talk to Tony for a minute.”

Bucky looked up at him, grateful for his help. He watched for a moment as the girl dutifully followed Helen and they began to bandage the incision. Then Steve had him by the elbow, dragging him out into the hall.

“What in the blue hell was that?” Tony snapped.

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes tiredly. “She’s just scared, Stark. She didn’t want to be put under, and I honestly don’t blame her.”

“Barnes, right now you’re not thinking clearly. You’re so caught up in trying to fix her that you can’t see the danger here.”

“I’ve got it under control.”

“You’ve got _nothing_ under control!”

“Watch it, Tony,” Steve warned.

“Rogers, I know he’s your friend, and he got a free pass when he got here, but that girl—”

“What about her?” Bucky growled. He clenched his fists, his metal arm whirring, and Steve stepped between the two.

“She lied, she stole,” Tony said, ticking off the list on his fingers. “She could have killed everyone in that room before we even knew what was happening!”

“She exercised free will, for the first time in who knows how long! You have _no idea_ what it’s like, to have that taken away from you. It’s far beyond being a prisoner. It’s being a prisoner of your own mind, your own body—it’s having absolutely no control at all. You have _no idea_ what she’s going through right now.”

Bucky was nearly shaking with rage, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. Steve stepped in.

“She made a choice, Stark. She made a choice and no one got hurt. She doesn’t understand that she can tell us what she wants, not yet. You remember how long it took Bucky…you have to give her time.”

The three looked over to where the girl sat, her wound bandaged. Helen and Bruce were examining the tracking device, and Steve was surprised to see Nat sitting next to her. She was smiling and talking, but this time the girl didn’t appear to be listening; she was looking over at Bucky. Her face was blank, but Steve could see the apprehension in her eyes.

Tony clenched his jaw, looking resigned. “The girl goes back down to Banner’s, right now. She’s got a long way to go before I’m going to trust her up here again.”

Bucky glared at him. It was no secret that there was friction between the two of them, and this certainly hadn’t helped matters. Tony and Steve had always butted heads, but the addition of Bucky into the mix had led to some volatile confrontations.

“Okay, fair enough. Bucky will take her back down there, and we can put this behind us. It’s going to take Helen and Banner some time to wade through all that data and get back to us anyway. Sound good, Buck?”

Bucky nodded, not taking his eyes from Tony. He walked over to the girl, his features softening as he spoke with her. She nodded and followed him obediently, although Steve noticed Bucky kept his body between her and Tony as they passed.

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day. “Tony, please. Give them a chance. I know you think my judgement’s clouded when it comes to Bucky, but just try to remember she’s a victim in this too.”

***

Bucky let out a deep breath as he entered their living quarters, already physically at ease just being back there. He was exhausted, and he could only imagine how the girl felt. He turned to her and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders, relieved when she didn’t pull away.

“Hey—are you all right? I know that was really stressful and scary. It was for me, too,” he said, letting out a dry laugh. “How are you feeling?”

The girl didn’t answer his question. She looked up at him, her jaw working, and he was once again captivated by the naked beauty of her eyes. The depth of emotion he saw there cut straight through to his heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Bucky huffed and before he could even think it through he gathered her in his arms, holding her close. She didn’t move, her arms hanging limply at her sides, but she didn’t pull away either.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong. I understand why you did it, and although it scared me, I’m glad you made a choice for yourself.”

He pulled away slightly so he could look her in the eyes. “I know you knew what you were doing, just next time please tell me what you want so I can help you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

She shook her head, looking up at him. “I’m causing problems…that man, Tony…he was mad at me. He was mad at you.”

Bucky scoffed. “Forget about him, he’s an asshole. He’s all talk, but he won’t hurt you either. He’s just trying to protect the rest of us.”

“From me.” she said quietly. It wasn’t a question. Bucky didn’t know what to say, and she continued. “I could…hurt you. I could hurt everyone. I’ve done…terrible things, I think. It’s hard to remember, but I remember some of it now.”

Bucky sighed and held her close. He didn’t know what was worse, the disorientation and confusion, or the horrible clarity when the memories started to return. They may not have had a choice, what they did while Hydra had control of them, but in the end, they still did those things, and it was their curse to live with it.

***

**_Three Years Ago - Hydra Research Base Sokovia_ **

In the Great Hall, the leaders of Hydra Facilities and Bases around the world were gathered, silently observing the proceedings on the stage. The black and crimson banners behind them hung stiff and proud, and there was not a single noise from the assembled crowd. Not because it was expected, but because the two imposing figures on the stage demanded it.

Twelve men flanked the two leaders, representatives of both Hydra High Command and S.H.I.E.L.D. The speaker, a tall man with a monocle, stood rigidly in his spotless uniform as he spoke with unbridled passion to the crowd. Wolfgang von Strucker was a proud man, and he commanded the respect of those beneath him.

In contrast, his red-haired counterpart wore a tailored business suit, and to those who didn’t know better, a look of boredom on his patrician features. But those who had experienced Alexander Pierce’s devious savagery knew his carefully schooled expression was merely a ruse.

Behind the assembled men on stage, the Assets stood still and silent in the shadows where they belonged. The female’s hair was braided neatly behind her head, while the man’s long hair hung in his face; both wore a black mask over their nose and mouth. They were the fists of Hydra--the guard dogs, and those were their muzzles.

Two assistants unveiled a strange looking weapon on the table next to the Strucker, and with a longing glance at the object, he continued speaking.

“Today my comrades, we claim a victory upon the battlefield. We have S.H.I.E.L.D, and now we have the Scepter. Today, we will begin to make our own destiny. The world we live in is changing. It is not a world of spies anymore—not even a world of heroes, as Captain America would have you believe. This is the age of miracles. And there is nothing more horrifying than a miracle. With this, we will create those miracles.

“Project Insight is the final solution. Together, we will build a new world order, a world that Hydra controls. It is finally our time to rise from the shadows and claim what is rightfully ours. We will not yield. Hydra is ever resilient--cut off one head, and two more will take its place. The Americans will send their circus freaks to test us. We will send them back, in bags. No surrender!” Strucker paused, and when he spoke again his voice was quieter.

“But first, a warning to those who would seek to plot against us…to undermine our work from within…”

With a command from their handlers, the Assets walked out onto the stage, each gripping a silently struggling figure by the neck--traitors to Hydra.

The Assets forced the traitors to their knees, drawing the knives they had been given by their handlers and placing the blades against their victims’ throats. Not the handguns they were accustomed to using in such circumstances; this was not an execution. This was a message. 

Strucker continued, his voice deadly soft. “There is no where you can run. No where you can hide, where the fist of Hydra cannot find you. And when we do, we will take everything from you. Pay heed, comrades, for this will serve as your only warning.”

With a nod from their handlers, the Assets moved. Knives flashed, and blood fell crimson onto the stage. Not a word was uttered as the Assets released their still-twitching victims.

“Hail Hydra.”

The crowd responded in unison, the noise deafening. “Hail Hydra!”

***

**Present Day**

At first, you weren’t sure what woke you as your head peeked out of the bundle of blankets in the corner. You had arranged your sleeping quarters as you had the previous night, that small bit of control a comfort to you.

The events of the day had exhausted you both, and Bucky had gone to bed after you both shared a quiet dinner. You felt bad for causing so much trouble today, so when he went to bed you went to your own room and tried to sleep.

Bucky seemed sad and upset, although not at you. He hadn’t said much to you after you had arrived back in the apartment, but his eyes were kind and he still reassured you constantly. He seemed very tired.

It surprised you, but you were worried about him. You couldn’t remember ever caring about anyone before, but there was something about him…something familiar that told you he had been important to you. It was a little disconcerting how quickly you were becoming attached to him, but something told you that it was right.

You cocked your head, hearing the noise again. A quiet whimper, coming from Bucky’s room. Quietly, you stood and walked over to his doorway, your enhanced eyesight able to see through the darkness inside.

Bucky was curled on his side, twitching and breathing heavily. He moaned softly, the noise sounding pained and tortured. Without even thinking about what you were doing, you walked into his room and climbed into his bed.

Instinct taking over, you wrapped your arms around him and curled your body against his. Bucky let out a small sigh and relaxed into your embrace for a moment before he stiffened, his eyes fluttering open. 

He rolled over and looked at you in surprise and shock, a look that quickly melted away. Bucky’s lips parted as if he were about to say something, but he let out a shuddering breath, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes as the tears spilled over. He reached his arms around you, and you held him close as his shoulders heaved, your face shining with silent tears of your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all your comments and kudos, you support really means a lot to me, it really keeps me going! I'm so excited about where this fic is headed, I can't write it fast enough lol!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, PTSD/ Disassociative Episode, a little blood/violence but not much, Angst and a whole lot of crying
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

“Do you want any more?” Steve asked as he offered you the bowl.

“Yes please, it was very good.”

“I think you’re the first person in the history of time to compliment my cooking, but if that’s what makes you happy, I’ll make you buttered noodles all day long.” He laughed and shook his head. It was a nice laugh, and it made you smile.

Steve had come down to cook lunch and to stay with you while Bucky went up to meet with the doctors from yesterday. Bucky had still seemed tired this morning, but he was in a better mood than he had been last night. He had thanked you and given you a big hug that startled you at first, but you quickly relaxed into his embrace. Physical contact was still a little uncomfortable to you, but you were getting used to Bucky’s touches; they were comforting, and you found that you liked them.

At first you weren’t sure what he was thanking you for until you remembered his nightmare last night. It hurt you to see him suffering, even if you knew the remembering was important. You wondered what it was that he remembered, but after a few of your own nightmares, you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

You had been a little nervous when Bucky had asked if it would be okay for Steve to stay with you while he went upstairs, but you trusted Bucky. So far, Steve had been telling you stories of how he and Bucky had grown up together in Brooklyn, interspersed with some general history. The history confused you, especially when he mentioned the dates. He had seemed nervous when he told you what year it was, but that didn’t mean anything to you either.

Steve did most of the talking. He knew you were listening and seemed to expect your quietness, so he looked surprised when you finally asked him a question.

“How did Bucky get away? Did you find him like he found me?”

Steve looked down and you cringed inwardly, wondering if you had upset him. After everything yesterday you were finally beginning to understand no one was going to punish you, but you still got scared sometimes.

“No, actually, he found me. He was…his mission was to kill me, and that’s how we found each other again.”

Steve sighed and sat down next to you. “You see, I thought Buck was dead. He—we were both in the war together, World War Two that is, and he fell from a train during a mission. I thought he was dead, so I never went back for him.”

His eyes were glassy and his voice was very quiet, and you could see that this was very difficult for him to talk about.

“He…he wasn’t dead though, he was hurt. He lost his arm, and he laid there at the bottom of that ravine until Hydra came and found him.” Steve sniffed and wiped his face. “Hydra gave him the metal arm and experimented on him…made him into the Winter Soldier.”

You must have looked confused, because Steve explained, “The Winter Soldier is what we called him. Hydra just called him the Asset.”

“The Asset...like me,” you said.

Steve gave you a weak smile. “Yeah, like you. They kept him like they kept you and used him to do horrible things. It wasn’t his fault, just like it’s not your fault—any of it. If anything, it’s my fault for not going back for him.”

“I don’t think it’s your fault. I don’t think he does either,” you said, so soft it was almost a whisper.

Steve huffed and he looked at you, a single tear escaping down his cheek. He seemed very sad, and it bothered you. Hesitantly, you reached out your hand and placed it lightly on his. Steve’s lips twitched up into a surprised smile, and he intertwined his fingers with yours. He took a steadying breath and continued with his story.

“I had a little accident of my own—I crashed a plane and was frozen in the ice for seventy years. I woke up and everything was so different, I didn’t know what I was going to do until I was asked to join the Avengers.”

He chuckled, seeing your eyebrows raise as you listened with rapt attention. This was a very good story.

“We were out on a mission one day, trying to escort a double agent to safety when Bucky showed up. We fought, and I recognized him. I couldn’t believe it was him…I-I called him by his name, but he looked right at me like he didn’t even know me.

“A couple days later we met again on the Helicarrier—it’s like a big flying ship—and we fought again. I…he was trying to kill me, but I just couldn’t fight him. He hurt me…pretty bad…and I fell from the carrier into the river.”

Steve paused for a moment, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles idly. He looked up at you, but this time his eyes were dry.

“I would have died, but Bucky jumped in after me. He pulled me from the river…he saved my life. That’s when I knew he remembered me. He disappeared for a while after that, he said he had been trying to figure things out, but all he could remember was me. He eventually ended up at here at the Avengers Tower—he said he saw me on the news.

“It was…the first few weeks were really hard for him, the nightmares and the remembering. He was a lot like you when he first got here, but we helped him through it, just like he’s helping you. Bucky is a great guy…he’s my best friend, and one of the kindest, strongest people I’ve ever known. He’s going to help you get better…we all will.”

Steve squeezed your hand, and you stared at the counter for a moment, processing. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why are you doing this…helping me? Why is he doing this?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

You looked down at the counter again, frowning. “Why don’t I remember anything from before? I’m starting to remember more from when I was the Asset, but I…I can’t remember anything else.”

Steve seemed to consider that for a moment. “Maybe it’s because no one here knew you from before. I knew Bucky from when we were kids, so I could help him remember that part. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though,” he said, squeezing your hand again, “it’ll come. It just takes time.”

Steve got up and pulled open a kitchen drawer, taking out a small black notebook and pen. He handed them to you.

“Bucky has one just like this, it really seems to help him. He writes down what he can remember when it comes, kind of like piecing together clues. Maybe it can help you too.”

You took the notebook and pen, running your fingers lightly over the cover. You looked up at him and smiled.

“Thank you, S-Steve. I think I _would_ like to write some things down. I’m afraid of forgetting again.”

The two of you sat together in amicable silence, Steve reading the paper while you scribbled furiously in your notebook. There was more than you realized to write down, and you hurried to record it all before you forgot again. You were so intent on your task that you almost didn’t hear the door open and Bucky enter.

“Hey Buck.”

“Hey.”

Bucky stood next to you at the island, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and Steve. He noticed the notebook in front of you, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Looks like you guys’ve been keeping busy, good day so far?”

You looked up at Steve and he nodded. “Yeah…it’s been a good day. How’d it go up there?”

Bucky walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He offered one to both you and Steve, but you shook your heads. He took a long drink and chewed on his bottom lip as if to gather his thoughts.

“It went okay, they found out quite a bit about your abilities,” he said, looking at you. “It looks like Hydra was able to perfect the serum they injected you with, it turns out there are more similarities between your and Steve’s DNA than mine. You’re faster than either of us, with a higher rate of healing, but not as strong…I guess there had to be a trade-off. It looks like the same genetic enhancements have been made, both sensory and neutrally. All-in-all, you’re very similar to both of us, with a few minor changes.”

Bucky paused a moment, and when he looked up you could see sadness and a hint of tension in his smile.

“We were—I was really hoping they could find out something about your past, about who you were before Hydra took you. I’m sorry, but they came up with a dead end.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“Her DNA’s been corrupted by the serum. We’ll never find a match, and that’s assuming she’s from a point in time where they actually collected that stuff. There’s no record of her fingerprints anywhere, they checked both the US and International databases. Facial recognition and dental records also came up empty. The best they could come up with was blood composition, by removing the known chemicals Hydra pumped into her they could isolate certain compounds.”

Both you and Steve looked confused. “There are certain chemicals, specifically ones only used for the polio vaccine in the US prior to 1970. After that it changed,” he explained with a sigh. “So all we know is that physically you’re roughly 30 years old, you’re an American, and you disappeared sometime before 1970…I’m sorry...”

You looked down at the counter. You had been hoping to find out more, maybe even your name, and Bucky’s words hit you like a blow to the stomach. 1970…Steve had said today was August 24th, 2013. Had you really been gone that long?

Bucky sat down next to you and placed a hand on your arm, rubbing it soothingly.

“Hey—it’s okay. I know it’s not much to go on right now, but it’s a start. We’re gonna figure this out. It’s gonna be all right.”

You reached up an placed your hand on his, still staring unseeingly at the counter. Your mind reeled with everything he had just told you and everything Steve had told you before, and you felt the beginnings of a headache form behind your eyes. Heat flared deep within you, and you clenched your jaw in anger--anger at the people that had taken so much away from you both.

Distantly you heard Bucky and Steve talking—they seemed to be lightly arguing about something, but you paid it no mind. Images and fractured memories were playing through your mind as your breathing started to pick up speed, and you unconsciously clenched your fists.

You felt Bucky’s hand tighten around your arm protectively. “She’s upset Steve, she’s not in any condition too—”

“Bucky, _you’re_ upset. I can see the tension and frustration in you from here. You won’t do her any good if you’re wound tighter than a spring. Go up to the gym. Blow off some steam--we’ll be fine here.”

“I’m not leaving—”

“Buck.”

Steve lightly touched your clenched hand. “Hey…are you going to be okay if Bucky goes up to the gym for a little bit? We can keep talking, or you can write in your notebook, or we can find something else to do if you want.”

You looked first at Steve, then at Bucky. You wanted Bucky, you wanted the comfort he brought, but even you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the treacherous disappointment and frustration lurking beneath his calm exterior. You squeezed the hand that was still on your arm and smiled faintly at him.

“Bucky, you should go. I don’t want you to be upset or sad anymore. You…you need to take care of yourself too, I’ll be okay here. I’m tired and my head hurts, I think I would like to lay down for a while.”

Bucky looked at you in concern at the mention of your headache and was silent for a moment, as if he were making up his mind.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay. I won’t be far, Steve or JARVIS can call me if you need anything…anything at all.”

With a final squeeze of your arm he went in his bedroom to change. You and Steve both stood, and you helped him stack the dishes in the dishwasher like Bucky had shown you this morning.

“Thank you, I think Bucky really needs this. Are you…are you okay? Do you need anything for your headache?”

You shook your head. “No thank you, I would just like to lay down now…I’m very tired.”

You walked into your bedroom, closing the door behind you but not shutting it entirely.

***

Wham!

Over and over Bucky hit the heavy bag, working through his tension and anger. He had tried going on a run earlier, but that didn’t seem to help. He needed to hit something.

He was remembering more and more; it seemed like every minute he was with the girl more memories rose to the surface. Bucky’s teeth clenched as he remembered last night’s horrific nightmare; he could still smell the blood and hear the roar of the crowd. He knew for a fact they had worked together now, and knowing this, he anticipated some tough times ahead when the girl started to remember the things she had been made to do. She was already suspecting as much—she had mentioned it last night.

Wham!

The events yesterday had affected Bucky more than he cared to admit. He had known he was closing himself off and acting withdrawn, and he had done his best to make sure the girl knew it wasn’t her fault. Today hadn’t helped his mood, first the bitter disappointment of not learning more about the girl’s identity, followed by some thoughtless comments from Stark. The man had even gone so far as to suggest they come up with a name for her for the time being, rather than just calling her ‘the girl.’

Nat said Stark was just trying to be helpful, but the comment made Bucky implode.

_“She’s not just some dog off the streets you can give a new name to, Stark. She’s a human being, with people who love her and wonder what became of her. She’s got a name—we just don’t know it yet.”_

Wham!

Hydra had stripped away every last inch of their humanity, and Bucky was damned if he was going to make her feel like less of a person now.

She was making so much progress. Since coming here she hadn’t hardly said more than five words, but he felt like today had been a turning point. She had said his name, she had returned his touch, she actually _cared_ about him. She was even warming up to Steve and felt comfortable being around him.

Bucky thought back to last night. _She_ had comforted _him_. She had wrapped him in her arms and held him while he sobbed like a child, and she had been there when he woke up. Her surprising kindness had sparked something deep within him, and he realized he was starting to develop feelings for the girl. He wasn’t sure if they were now-feelings or remembered feelings, but one thing had been startlingly clear to him when he had woken that morning, finding her still wrapped in his arms.

Bucky remembered kissing her.

Rain on a tin roof. Long, delicate fingers prying at his mask, removing it. Dark eyes looking up at him, seeing _him_ , not the Asset. The warmth of her touch, her fingers running over the scars on his chest and shoulder, calming him. Her scent—copper and cordite, blood and gunpowder, mixed with something softer, sweeter. A heartbeat, slow and steady beneath his hand, tethering him in the moment. Her lips against his, hesitant and unsure, but there—and oh so real.

Bucky stopped and clutched at the heavy bag, panting.

He had woken to see the woman lying in his arms, her eyes closed and her gentle breathing warm against his cheek, and he knew it was the same person beyond a shadow of a doubt. He didn’t know how, or where, or when…there was no context to the memory, but he was beginning to understand. 

_“Sergeant Barnes.”_

The AI’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Bucky immediately released the heavy bag and stood. “What is it, JARVIS?”

_“Pardon the interruption sir, but Captain Rogers is requesting your immediate presence in Dr. Banner’s suite. He seems quite agitated.”_

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, pulling the tape from his hands and walking quickly to the door.

_“The young lady appears to be suffering a disassociative episode. She and Captain Rogers are both unharmed at the moment, but she is becoming quite violent.”_

Bucky’s heart was in his throat as he raced to the elevator, slamming the down button that would bring him to the basement. As he approached the suite it was eerily silent, and he didn’t know if that made him feel better, or worse.

Steve looked at him with visible relief as Bucky entered the room. His hair was unkempt, and dark bruising was beginning to show along his cheekbone. He was standing by the doorway to the bathroom, and Bucky could see the girl was at the sink—she appeared to be washing her hands, over and over.

“I swear, Buck, I didn’t touch her,” Steve began, pulling at his hair in agitation. “She just woke up like this. We…we were doing so good earlier, we were talking—I mean, _really_ talking. I felt like I was starting to connect with her, you know? She had that headache and went to lie down just before you left, but when she woke up she was confused and…and like this.”

Bucky edged closer to the bathroom. The girl didn’t seem to notice either of them. She just continued running her hands under the water, and Bucky could hear her softly muttering to herself.

“How’d that happen?” he asked, gesturing to Steve’s face.

“I guess I got a little too close, she just lashed out at me. She’s disassociating, I know…I remember when you used to get like this. I just didn’t recognize it for what it was. I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s lips twitched and he looked up at his friend sadly. “It’s okay Steve, it’s not your fault. I knew something like this was bound to happen sooner or later…I shouldn’t have left.”

“Buck, you need breaks too. You can’t do this by yourself.”

Bucky nodded. “I’m gonna see if I can get her outta there, maybe calm her down a little.”

He eased into the bathroom, walking slowly and keeping his eyes on the girl. She was indeed washing her hands; he saw with relief that she had turned on the cold water instead of the hot, but her hands were still red and raw from scrubbing. She was repeating the same thing, over and over, rocking back and forth slightly.

“Off. Get it off. Get it—it won’t…it won’t come off.”

Bucky’s heart broke. She was hallucinating, and he was pretty sure she was trying to scrub invisible blood from her hands. Slowly, he reached out and turned off the water. The girl took no notice, continuing to scrub at her hands sightlessly.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing there. Why don’t you come out to the living room and sit down, okay?”

She continued to rock and mutter; it was like she couldn’t see him at all. Bucky swallowed thickly as his eyes started to burn.

“Shh…it’s okay, I’m here. It’s me, Bucky, remember? You know me.”

Bucky leaned down to look into her eyes, and that was when he made his first mistake. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, intending to sooth her; his guard was lowered, and he didn’t feel her shift until it was too late.

Quick as a viper, she grabbed a handful of his hair and threw him forward, slamming his head into the mirror above the sink. The mirror exploded, and Bucky fell to the ground in a heap as the girl skittered backwards into the corner.

“Bucky!” Steve came charging into the bathroom, his eyes wide. Bucky rolled over and held up his hands.

“Steve, stop! You’re gonna scare her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. I let my guard down, it’s my fault.”

Bucky slowly sat up. Blood was running freely down the side of his face and dripping onto the floor.

“Bucky, get out of there.”

“No--she’s just scared.” Cautiously, he approached the girl. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Bucky moved slowly, hoping he could get through to her—he knew that in her state right now she couldn’t distinguish between what was real and what wasn’t. Her eyes were unfocused and she looked dazedly around the bathroom before settling on him. A brief spark of hope lit in him as he saw a hint of recognition, but her next words doused it like cold water.

“Mission objective?”

Bucky let out a sob. “N-no sweetheart, there is no mission. You’re not the Asset anymore, remember? It’s me…Bucky…”

The girl looked down, and he took a chance, inching closer to her on the floor. The girl recoiled, trembling slightly. She scratched idly at her forearms as she rocked back and forth, her nails leaving marks on already raw skin.

“Please stop that, you’ll hurt yourself,” he said. He slowly reached a hand out to try and stop her, but she looked up at him in confusion.

“W-who are you?” she whimpered, “What did you do to me?”

“Bucky, I think you should get out of there now,” Steve said nervously. He moved into the doorway, reaching his hand in to help Bucky up.

Suddenly, the girl’s eyes snapped to Steve, and she lunged at him. Bucky caught her midair, his arms wrapping tightly around her and the plates in his metal arm shifting as he struggled to keep her away from Steve and the broken glass that littered the bathroom floor. She twisted in his grip and got an arm free, and he felt his lip split as she hit him. She was a lot stronger than he expected. His metal arm flexed, and he held her as tightly as he dared, not wanting to hurt her.

“Steve, get outta here!”

“What? No! I’m not—”

“Please, just go, you’re making it worse! Just lock us in, we’ll be fine,” he pleaded.

Steve hesitated, his eyes shifting between the struggling girl and the blood trickling down Bucky’s face. The girl’s head slammed back into him and she kicked off the wall, and Bucky clamped down even harder with his metal arm.

“Go!” Bucky shouted between clenched teeth.

He managed to drag the girl out of the bathroom and away from the hazards as Steve reluctantly backed out of the apartment, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the lock engage.

“Okay…I’m gonna let you go now, just please stay calm. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Bucky released her and took several steps back, holding his hands up and breathing hard. He lifted the hem of his shirt and mopped at the blood that was beginning to run into his eye. He swore as he probed the cut at his hairline and looked over to the girl.

She lay curled on her side where he left her, and his stomach recoiled seeing the bruises on her face and arms he had left while trying to restrain her. Her eyes were glassy and vacant again, and she was shivering intermittently. He sighed and laid down on the floor, facing her but maintaining a safe distance.

Bucky talked to her, his voice gentle and low. He knew she probably couldn’t hear him—she was too far gone—but he hoped the sound of his voice could bring her back. After several minutes had passed without her moving or responding he tentatively reached out, resting his fingers lightly on her outstretched hand.

“B-Bucky?” Her voice was soft and uncertain, her eyes liquid as she looked up at him.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. Do you know where you are?”

She nodded and her eyes searched his face. He saw them widen as she saw the damage she had caused, and she recoiled in horror.

“I hurt you,” she whispered. “Bucky, I hurt you…I-I’m sorry…”

She sounded so pitiful and lost, and Bucky felt his eyes start to burn. “Shh…It’s all right, I’m fine. You didn’t know what you were doing. It’s not your fault, sweetheart.”

He reached out to caress her face, but she caught his hand, looking from it to his eyes. Her jaw worked as if she was struggling to force the words out.

“Bucky, I…I killed…I killed them _all_.”

Bucky felt his stomach drop. She remembered.

Wordlessly he took her in his arms and held her while she cried, great heaving sobs full of bitterness and regret. It was all coming crashing down around her now; she was finding out that the past she sought was full of horrors—horrors not only done to her, but ones caused by her as well.

Gradually she quieted, and Bucky leaned back against the wall, still holding her tightly. His mouth tightened as he caressed the bruises on her face; she looked terrible, although he knew he probably didn’t look much better.

“All those people,” she whispered. “I remember them now. The b-blood…their screams…I did that.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I…I did the same things. I hurt—I killed people too. It wasn’t our fault, neither one of us. They _took_ us. They _changed_ us. They made us do it. I know it hurts, but it’s not your fault.”

Tears ran down Bucky’s face as he spoke to her words he only half believed himself, because he understood the anguish and horror she was feeling all too well. The girl shifted and snaked her arms around him, hiccupping as she burrowed her face against his neck.

“Please don’t leave me Bucky…please don’t ever leave me.”

Bucky exhaled sharply and pressed a tender and lingering kiss to her temple. He gently took her hand and held it to his chest, directly over his heart.

“I’m right here, I’m not going to leave you. We have each other now, and we’re going to get through this…together.”

***

**Hydra Research Base Sokovia – Present Day**

“Tell me again, comrade, how you _lost_ the Asset.”

Baron Wolfgang von Strucker already knew the answer of course, but he enjoyed playing with his victims before dispatching them…and this man had caused him more than enough of a headache already.

Following the abominable incident at the Triskelion involving Pierce, who had regrettably but not unforeseeably lost control of _his_ Asset, Strucker had moved the girl from the Sokovian base to Austria, re-opening Hydra Research Facility Number Four. The man now cowering before him was the former Commander of that facility, and as the girl’s handler was already dead, he alone would have to bear the brunt of Strucker’s wrath.

“P-please, Herr Strucker…C-Captain America had the other Asset with him, we never saw them coming…the Asset knew what to say to the girl, and she just obeyed him.”

Strucker stepped back in disgust. “Of course she did, you idiot, you were well aware of their history together. They never should have been allowed to get that close. You disappoint me.” He nodded to the guard in the corner and the former Commander’s eyes widened.

“Please! Give me a couple men and I will find her…I will find them both!”

“I don’t have the time nor the patience for your empty promises, comrade,” he said with a sigh as he nodded to the guard.

He turned on his heel and strode from the room as a shot rang out and a body fell heavily to the floor. Doctor List scuttled up to him, looking nervous.

“Herr Strucker, what about the girl? Both Assets out on the loose? What if they come for the others? What if they come for _us_?”

Strucker paused and placed a reassuring hand on the doctor’s slim shoulder.

“Don’t fret List, it’s unbecoming. The others have been scattered to the wind; they won’t be found easily. Soon our little bird will be back home where she belongs--she was always much more reliable than the other one.”

“B-but Herr Strucker, the tracking device has been disabled…how will we find her?”

“We don’t have to find her, List. She will come to us. And now that they are together again, where one goes the other will follow. _She_ will bring the other one to _us_.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff, Panic Attack, Blood/Character Death during a dream sequence
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**One Month Later – Avengers Tower**

_The sound of his boots echoed off the walls of the long, dark hallway that seemed to stretch into infinity. Water dripped. It was dark down here, and damp, and cold. The cold that had never seemed to affect him much now penetrated his bones. Bucky shivered._

_Up ahead he could see a figure, a woman, reaching around blindly in the dark. She was wearing a soft floral dress with sensible flats, and her hair was cut in a stylish bob. She turned, and he caught a glimpse of her face, red lips parted slightly and mascaraed eyes wide as she stared at him unseeingly._

_She was very pretty._

_“Bucky? Bucky, where are you?”_

_It was the girl. She turned and continued down the hall away from him, calling out in a trembling voice. Bucky started to run to her, but the hall seemed to stretch on endlessly and he couldn’t seem to get any closer. She paused before an open doorway, its yawning mouth a hellhole of inky darkness._

_“Bucky, please—I can’t find you!”_

_“I’m right here, sweetheart, turn around! I’m right here!”_

_To his relief, the girl turned and her eyes widened. She started to smile, and that was when two arms snaked out of the blackness behind her, two pale horrors dripping crimson, fastening around her eyes and mouth and yanking her back into the darkness beyond._

_“No!” Bucky screamed._

_He ran through the doorway after her and found himself at the top of a dark stairwell. Bucky started down, groping sightlessly along the walls. The air was rank with the smell of ozone and blood, and he heard the distant crackle of electricity. It unnerved him. Finally, he reached the bottom and found himself in a large circular chamber, illuminated by a single overhead light._

_She was there._

_She was on her knees, crouched low with her hands over her stomach and her head bowed. Her dress was ripped, her hair a tangled, damp mess. She was barefoot, and as he edged closer he saw she was crying. Bucky’s stomach filled with dread as he reached out to lightly touch her shoulder._

_“Why’d you do it, Bucky? Why?”_

_She raised her head, her eyes silently entreating him. Her hands lowered from their protective position against her abdomen. They were red._

_Bucky caught her as she fell, pulling her into his arms as the blood flowed freely. He desperately pressed a hand against her wound, but he knew it would do no good._

_“No. No, no, no, please…please stay with me…I-I need you,” he sobbed, his fingers leaving trails of red along her cheek as he caressed her face. She looked up at him with a knowing sadness._

_“You s-should have killed me.”_

_She shuddered and her mouth worked, and he bent down to hear as her hand clutched at him._

_“It would have been kinder,” she breathed as the light left her eyes, and her hand fell limply against the concrete._

Bucky gasped awake.

His heart was pounding, the sound of blood rushing in his ears the only thing he could hear. He sat up, peeling the sheet off his sweat-soaked body, and looked dazedly around the room as awareness slowly crept back to him.

He was in Banner’s apartment, in the basement. The door was locked, it was quiet, he was safe, and the girl—

_The girl._

Bucky’s head whipped around in panic until he saw her lying in the bed next to him. She was on her side and her eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell with even breathing.

She was alive—it had all been just a dream.

Bucky exhaled sharply, his eyes closing in relief. He bent down and softly kissed her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his lips as he ran his fingers through her long hair. She was okay. She was safe.

He looked up at the clock. It was early, but he knew he would never be able to go back to sleep now. A shower sounded good; he was sweaty and his mind was still reeling from his dream.

Bucky got up and walked silently into the bathroom, leaving the girl sleeping soundly in the bed. She had been sharing his bed ever since the night she comforted him after the nightmare. It wasn’t something they had discussed; it was a silent acknowledgement of something they both needed. 

Bucky tilted his head back and let the warm water relax his muscles, washing away the tension and horror he still felt. He wasn’t used to dreaming. The demons that came for him in the night usually took the form of flashbacks and memories, but even those had been less frequent lately. This though, this was something different.

He closed his eyes and rinsed the shampoo from his hair as images from the dream came back to him unbidden. Blood flowing crimson through his fingers. The pleading accusation in her eyes as she took her last breath.

_“You should have killed me…it would have been kinder.”_

He didn’t know what any of it meant, but his stomach clenched and he swallowed hard against the bile that rose at the thought of causing her pain.

Or worse, of losing her.

He wondered if he should talk to Steve about it, but if he couldn’t make any sense of it he doubted Steve would. No sense in worrying him.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom feeling only marginally better. He walked into the kitchen, where the girl was already awake and writing in her journal. It had become a morning ritual with her. She hadn’t remembered anything from before Hydra yet, but the journal had been a helpful outlet to record the memories from her time with Hydra and work through the complex feelings that went with them.

She had made so much progress. The disassociative episode a month ago that had left them both bruised and bloody had been a low point, but ever since then she had been steadily improving, blooming like a flower before his eyes. He could see her personality coming through now. She was kind and intelligent, and surprisingly funny—her deadpan humor had a way of putting people at ease.

She was now allowed upstairs and even out in the courtyard—under supervision, of course. Bucky was thinking of asking if they could move into one of the apartments upstairs, but he wanted to ask her first. Banner’s apartment was her safe place. While he didn’t want to take that away from her, he didn’t want it turning into a cage, either. Plus, he thought it would be nice if she could at least have a window to look of.

Bucky cleared his throat as he entered the kitchen. She already knew he was there, of course. Her hearing was just as good as his was, and he did it more out of courtesy than anything. She looked up at him, visibly brightening.

“Morning, Bucky.”

“Morning,” he said, running a hand across her back affectionately. Touch had become very important to them. It was purely platonic, but it had a calming affect on them both after being touch-starved for so long.

She frowned, and her eyes searched his. “You’re up early…Did you have a nightmare? You look a little pale.”

Bucky sighed—she always saw right through him. “Not exactly, it was more like a…a bad dream.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t push him to. They both understood the need to take things slow and allow the other to process new information. She knew he would talk about it if and when he wanted to.

“I’m going to make some eggs, do you want any?” she asked. “Steve taught me yesterday, and I want to practice,” she added, noting his raised eyebrows.

“Yes, please…I’m surprised the punk didn’t burn the place down.”

She shrugged. “It was just a little fire…I put it out before he noticed.”

Bucky chuckled and watched her as she moved around the kitchen. It was funny—her Hydra training was second nature, but the simplest domestic tasks were still foreign to her. She could probably kill him in seventy-three different ways, just using what was in the room, but making eggs? She had to re-learn that.

It had been the same for him. He had barely been able to take care of himself when he first got to the Tower, so he understood her need to practice everyday tasks. He was also hoping that it might trigger some memories from before Hydra.

He thanked her as she slid him a plate of eggs. She sat next to him, and they ate in companionable silence. They both had the habit of slipping into non-verbal communication, and while it might have appeared strange to an outsider, it was comfortable to them.

“I thought we could go up to the gym later, is that okay?” he asked, putting his plate in the dishwasher.

“I’d like that. Can we also sit out in the courtyard if it’s a nice day? I really liked that the last time…”

Bucky smiled. “Sure. I have to meet with Nat and Clint later on, they want to bring me up-to-speed on the upcoming mission, but Steve’s gonna steal you away for another of his history lessons.”

Her face fell briefly at the mention of the mission, but she recovered quickly.

“Good,” she said, nodding. “I like Steve.”

Bucky put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. They had discussed the mission and the possibility that he might have to leave, and he knew it made her anxious. He didn’t feel comfortable bringing her along yet; it was way too soon, and the last thing he wanted was to cause her to relapse.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. 

She nodded. He was proud of her, how she was now able to process her emotions instead of letting them overwhelm her. It wasn’t always easy—hell, even he still struggled with it—but she was improving. She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. It didn’t quite meet her eyes, but it was a start.

***

You deftly sidestepped Bucky’s swing, your leg sweeping out towards his. He seemed to anticipate the move and leapt nimbly over your leg. You twisted quickly, shifting directions and swiping out with your forearm, catching him across the back of the knees and sending him to the mat. Taking advantage of your superior speed, you pounced.

Dummy knife at the ready, you almost had him when he rolled unexpectedly. Now it was you who were pinned, held down by his considerable strength with his own dummy knife at your throat instead.

“Point for me,” he said, grinning maliciously.

You bucked your hips, and he immediately got up.

“You’re fast, but you telegraph your moves too much. You need to be more subtle—you can’t always rely on your speed,” he instructed.

Your hand flashed out, the heel of your hand catching him low across the jaw in an uppercut, and his head snapped back.

“Like that?”

Bucky ruefully massaged his jaw, his eyes narrowed at you. “Point you,” he said, breaking out into a grin.

The two of you had been sparring for hours, and neither of you showed any sign of tiring yet.

“Go again?” you asked.

Bucky nodded, and you readied yourself as he began circling you. Back and forth you traded hits, each of you probing for weakness in the other. Finally, you saw your opportunity and feigned a punch, instead kicking out at him. Bucky twisted at the last minute and went down on one knee, and your blow only grazing his chest instead of landing directly.

He looked up at you, his dark hair falling across his face and obscuring his features. All you could see was the cold blue of his eyes, and you staggered back as the lights seemed to dim around you.

It was a different man looking back at you now. The man had the same eyes, but this was the Asset. A searing pain shot through your head, and your vision greyed at the edges.

_You stood motionless in the center of the room, staring blankly ahead. In front of you stood the Asset, his metal arm glinting maliciously as he received instruction from the man with the monocle. Behind you, the technicians were shutting down the great steel chair and wiping your sweat from its leathered surface._

_The room still echoed with sounds of your screams._

_“Train her, Soldat. Break her if you must, but do not kill her. I want her ready by the end of the month. I have a mission for you both. Do you understand?”_

_The Asset looked impassively at you, his dead eyes as dark as coal._

_“Da. Understood.”_

Distantly, you heard someone speaking to you, but they sounded far away. You groaned and clutched your head as a pounding headache threatened to cleave your skull in two. Hands were on your face, tilting your head up, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“..kay? Can you hear me? Please sweetheart, I need you to look at me.”

You opened your eyes obediently, and your vision swam for a moment before settling on the figure kneeling in front of you. It was Bucky, not the Asset, his beautiful grey-blue eyes worriedly searching yours.

“What happened? Is it another headache?”

You nodded. “I-I’m okay…I just need some air.”

Bucky helped you stand, one hand securely under your arm to steady you. Your legs felt like rubber and your stomach was rolling, and you clutched at him, glad for the support. He led you outside into the courtyard, the sun over bright as he sat you down on a bench.

You both sat in silence for a while, Bucky gently rubbing your back while you held your head in your hands. Once your headache had diminished to a dull throb you sat up, blowing out a shuddering breath.

“What did you remember?” Bucky asked gently—he already knew that’s what had happened.

“I…I remember you trained me. In Siberia. They told you to break me, but not to kill me. It wasn’t like…I think they had already turned me. They wanted you to get me ready for a mission.”

Bucky’s face fell. “I know,” he said. He looked like he had just been punched in the stomach.

“Bucky,” you began, your voice catching. “Bucky, why don’t I remember anything else? Why do I only remember the bad things? What if there are people looking for me, and I never remember them? I…I can’t…”

You clutched at your arms, doubling over on the bench as you started to hyperventilate.

“I don’t want to remember any more,” you choked.

Bucky’s hand was on your back, his voice soft and low in your ear, grounding you.

“You’re okay, I’m right here with you. You need to calm down, sweetheart. Remember those breathing exercises Bruce taught you,” he encouraged softly. “You can do this.”

You nodded quickly, struggling to breathe while you worked through the exercises. Gradually your vision cleared and your breathing returned to normal; even your headache was gone.

Bucky squeezed your shoulder. “I’m proud of you,” he said, smiling at you.

You looked up at him and started to say something, but movement behind him caught your eye. Tony and Pepper were watching you from across the courtyard, and Bucky gripped your hand protectively as Tony started over towards you.

“What does he want?” Bucky growled.

The billionaire stopped a few feet in front of you, hands in his pockets as he rocked back on forth on his feet nervously.

“What is it, Stark?”

“You okay?” Tony asked you, and you were surprised to see concern behind the defensive layer of sarcasm in his eyes. Previously, he had always talked about you as if you weren’t there, and you were stunned to hear him address you directly.

“I-I’m okay,” you mumbled, gripping Bucky’s hand instinctively.

Tony looked from Bucky to you, and back again at Pepper, who had her arms crossed in front of her. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Look, uh, I think an apology is in order—to both of you. I know I can be an asshole sometimes, but that lady over there is who keeps me honest,” he said, indicating Pepper. You and Bucky stared at him incredulously as he continued.

“We saw the whole thing—the flashback in the gym and the panic attack. I’m…I’m impressed with your level of control, and I’m honestly surprised by you, Barnes. I didn’t know you had kindness in you—I don’t know, maybe it was always there and I just didn’t want to see it.”

He waved a hand. “Anyway, that’s not the point. Pepper called me out on my bullshit, and I wanted to apologize to you both. I was just looking out for my people, trying to keep everyone safe, but you’re a part of that too. And if you wanted to move out of Banner’s dungeon down there and up into the Tower, I’m okay with that.”

The apology seemed totally uncharacteristic for him, but it seemed genuine. Bucky had remained perfectly still through the entire speech, your hand firmly grasped in his. As Tony turned to leave, however, he spoke up.

“Stark,” he called. Tony turned, one eyebrow cocked in your direction. “Thank you. We’ll discuss it.”

Tony nodded, and you both watched as he and Pepper left the courtyard, arm-in-arm. Once they were out of sight, Bucky sighed a ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, that was…surprising.” He turned to you, jerking his chin up to the Tower looming overhead. “What do you think? About moving up with everyone else--you can have your own apartment up there, won’t have me breathing down your neck every five minutes…”

Bucky chuckled, but there wasn’t much humor in his eyes. In fact, he seemed a little sad.

You paused, not trusting yourself to speak. You liked living in the little apartment with Bucky. It was familiar and it was safe, but you supposed he was probably getting sick of having to deal with you.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

Bucky studied you for a long moment. “What’s wrong, sweetheart…talk to me. If you’re not ready, we don’t have to go.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay, I know it’s time. I just…I’m going to miss you.”

The last part was whispered, almost as if you were ashamed to say it. Your head was down, so you didn’t see Bucky’s eyes widen in realization or the flush that crept into his cheeks.

“Um, they have a couple apartments with two bedrooms up there, I could ask for one of those…if that’s what you want.”

You raised your head, and this time you didn’t miss the hopeful look in his eyes.

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

***

“So Buck tells me you guys are moving up here with the rest of us—that’s great news,” Steve said, smiling genuinely at you.

You nodded. “He found an apartment with two bedrooms, so it’ll be just like before. We’re going to move up here after his meeting.”

The two of you were seated in the common area of the Tower, history books spread out on the table in front of you. Bucky had left for his meeting a little while ago, and you and Steve were eating lunch while he went through another of his “history lessons.” The lessons had been his idea, and Bucky supported them wholeheartedly. Their purpose was twofold—getting you caught up on history and current events, while also seeing if anything triggered a memory about your past before Hydra.

Steve checked his watch. “Buck should be back soon, I think that’s enough history for today. Actually,” he ducked under the table, and his next words were muffled as he tugged something out of his bag. “I’ve got something you might be interested in, I found it when I was getting the books out of my closet.”

He laid a large photo album on the table. It looked really old.

“This was actually in a museum, if you can believe that,” he said laughing dryly. “When I woke up after my little ‘accident’ I was able to get a lot of this old stuff back.”

You and Steve spent the next hour going through the album. The album had a couple photos of Steve and his family, but mostly it was photos of him and Bucky. Laughing until tears sprang to your eyes, you listened as he told animated tales of their childhood escapades. You flipped the pages and watched how Bucky grew from a mischievous little troublemaker into a handsome young man with a heart-stopping smile and a playful glint in his eye.

Then things seemed to change. The war came, and you saw photos of Steve and Bucky with the Howling Commandos. Bucky looked different now. He didn’t smile, and the gleam was gone from his eyes. He looked more like the Bucky you knew. It made you sad, to see him change so blatantly, and you wondered what your own photo album would have looked like—how you had changed.

Finally, you reached the end. Loose photos had been stuffed along the binding, and you carefully thumbed through them, stopping suddenly on one in particular.

It was a photo of Bucky, taken the day before he shipped out for England. He was in his uniform, his cap set at a rakish angle. His smile was sweet and innocent as he stared happily back at the camera.

“I know, he…he looks so different,” Steve said quietly.

“No,” you said, running your fingers over the photo. “He looks happy.”

Steve must have seen the way you were looking at the photo, because he cleared his throat and said, “You can keep that if you like, it’s actually just a copy. I’ve got the original in my wallet.”

You tried to hand it back. “Steve, I couldn’t—”

“Keep it,” he said, folding your hands around the photograph.

He was looking at you as if he had just figured something out, but you weren’t sure what it was. You tucked the picture carefully in your pocket and smiled at him.

“Thank you, Steve.”

***

It was late, and you and Bucky had just finished the move up to the Tower apartment. It hadn’t taken long, neither of you had many belongings, but everyone had wanted to stop in and say hello once they heard you both had moved upstairs.

Being around that many people had exhausted you, and although it set you on edge you were able to control your anxiety. Bucky must have seen you starting to tire, so around ten he had kicked everyone out so you both could get some rest.

Bucky was sprawled on the couch, reading a book, and you sat in the chair near the window, watching the lights from the busy city below. It all seemed familiar, yet so utterly foreign, and you sighed in frustration.

“I’m going to go take a bath, and then I think I’m going to head to bed. I’m pretty tired.”

“All right,” Bucky said. He sat up and closed his book, his expression carefully neutral. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

You both knew that you were perfectly capable of washing your own hair, but for some reason he kept offering to do it for you. You always let him; it reminded you of the gentle compassion he had shown to you when you first came to the Tower, and if you were being honest, you liked it.

You nodded, and Bucky gave you several minutes to get situated in the bath before softly knocking on the door.

“Go ahead, Bucky,” you said, crossing your arms in front of you to hide your nudity.

The water was high and the bubbles obscured your figure, so you had little to worry about. Besides, Bucky was always the gentleman, carefully averting his eyes and focusing only on your face and hair. You closed your eyes and sighed as he worked the lather in, his strong hands warm and gentle against your skin.

You had been so relieved earlier when he offered to share an apartment with you; the thought of being without him was almost unthinkable. He was your rock, your tether to reality. It was never strained or awkward between the two of you, almost as natural as breathing. Something about him was so soothing, so comfortably familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“All set,” he said, his voice husky and low.

You looked up at him and stared in surprise. The way he was looking at you—he suddenly looked just like the man in the photograph Steve had given you earlier. His smile was easy and genuine, his eyes bright with obvious affection.

He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Take your time, I’m gonna head to bed.” It was an open invitation, not insistent or needy.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said, smiling back at him.

He bent down and kissed you lightly on the cheek, his soft lips sending a shock down your spine and making you blush. His mouth opened and closed like he was about to say something, but he must have thought better of it, smiling at you instead. He stood up and left you to your bath, and you sat there until the water started to turn cold.

You sat there thinking about a certain super-soldier, one hand still touching the spot on your cheek where he kissed you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Graphic Violence/Assassination, Depression, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**Ural Mountains, Western Russia – Twenty Years Ago**

In the tall grass along the ridge, two figures lie motionless, watching. Above the masks that obscure their lower faces their eyes are sharp and focused as they wait for their target. A male and a female, brute strength meets deadly grace, both Assets wait to strike.

You hear the train before you see it, clattering around the bend ten miles away. The Asset stiffens momentarily at the sight of it. He blinks hard and shakes his head as if to clear it, his eyes blank and calculating once again. Wordlessly he looks at you, and you both sink back into the shadows, getting into position.

The train rockets around the bend, heading for the tunnel. The Asset leaps from his crouched position and races along the ridge, matching the speed of the train at well over sixty miles per hour. You know you could easily outrun him but you don’t. He is the Primary Asset, and you obey him in all things.

The Asset pushes off from the ridge, landing heavily on the top of the train and rolling to his feet as you land behind him. Wind whips along the speeding train as you sprint to the maintenance car; you have approximately two minutes to get inside the train before it reaches the long, low tunnel.

He jumps the gap between cars and holds his hand out to you—the metal one. You jump, and vicelike fingers close around your wrist as he falls to one knee and swings you low against the side of the train where you can access the small maintenance hatch.

_One minute, thirty seconds._

Quickly overriding the external security, you pick the lock. The Asset looks from you to the rapidly approaching tunnel, and his grip tightens on your wrist slightly. The door swings open. You jacknife inside and the Asset lands beside you, both of you immediately drawing your weapons.

He covers you as you pry open a breaker box and short the circuits, cutting the lights and plunging the train into darkness. You now have five minutes until the train exits the tunnel and you lose the cover of darkness.

_Eliminate targets. Plant the evidence. No witnesses._

The Asset is already on the move. Up through the cars you make your way, as silent as the ghosts you are. The passengers don’t panic—faulty electrical is common on this old train—and they sit in their seats, unable to see their hands in front of their faces.

You, however, can see just fine. The Asset pauses at the next car, quickly looking inside and evaluating the scenario. He wordlessly communicates the plan to you, and he shoulders the door open without waiting for your confirmation. It’s assumed.

The Assets enter the car, and chaos ensues. They spin and duck as bodyguards react, their figures lit haphazardly by the flashes of light as weapons are discharged.

It’s over quickly.

The Asset sweeps the car as you plant the evidence, arranging the scene in a tableau that suits the Handler’s needs. Despite the clattering of the rails, you hear an imperceptible squeak moments before a figure springs from cover behind you. You spin and fire your weapon.

You’re too late. The figure is already firing and you feel a tug at your leg, moments before the Asset steps in front of you. Bullets ping off his metal arm as he fires, and the threat is neutralized.

_One minute._

The Assets climb out onto the platform, and you use a small device to lock the door from the inside. Sunlight illuminates the rapidly approaching mouth of the tunnel. You brace yourself, and you follow the Asset as he jumps from the train, rolling to your feet and into cover as the train rattles on, oblivious to the carnage in the executive car.

_Mission complete._

You feel a burning sensation in your leg as you stand, and you look down to see a gouge in your left thigh, weeping blood. It’s deep, but a minor flesh wound and will self-correct. You look up as the Asset starts to move, walking back along the valley towards the safehouse. He doesn’t look back to see if you follow; he knows that you will.

You walk for miles, visually scanning the area for threats. The sun is beginning to set and a chill wind sweeps through the valley. Blood drips regularly from the Asset’s right hand, yet you both walk on.

_Damage sustained._

The Asset stumbles, going down on one knee. His head is bowed and blood trickles out through the metal fingers he presses to his shoulder. Shaking his head like a dog, he stands and keeps walking.

You follow.

The third time the Asset falls, he stays down. At this point you calculate he only had about thirty minutes before blood loss renders him unconscious. His breathing is ragged and his fingers claw the dirt, and something forgotten shifts in you as you watch him struggle to his feet yet again.

He sways, and you duck under his arm, pulling his metal wrist across your shoulders and holding it tightly. It’s a risk, and you aren’t sure why you’re doing it. The Asset flinches from the touch initially, but he leaves the arm where it is. He looks at you for a long moment—this is not protocol. The wound in your leg flares at the added weight but you remain expressionless.

_The Asset does not respond to pain._

_It does not respond, but it feels it._

He leans on you more and more as you approach the safehouse, a shepherd’s hut nestled overlooking the valley. It has a low tin roof and log walls, and you nod approvingly. It will provide adequate shelter until the morning.

He stumbles again, and you grasp his belt, hauling him to his feet. He is heavy, but not too heavy for you. You will carry him if you must.

He shrugs out of your grip as you near the safehouse. You both draw your weapons and move in on the structure, sweeping it for threats. The Asset’s gun is steady in his hands and his steps are sure, his ashen face and unsteady breathing the only indication of the damage he has sustained.

_Building clear. Zero threats._

_Repair damage and await extraction._

The Asset closes the door, immediately digging a satellite phone out of a compartment concealed beneath a floorboard. He signals mission complete to the extraction team as clouds obscure the setting sun and thunder rumbles in the distance. It will be cold in the mountains tonight, but that won’t bother either of you.

You live in a world of ice--cold, unfeeling ice.

You loosen another floorboard and pull out a large duffle bag. Inside is a med kit and two ration packs. Your wound has already begun to heal, but you must first correct the damage sustained by the Primary Asset.

He sits heavily on the floor, leaning back against the wall as you lay out the medical kit. You unbuckle his tactical vest, peeling back the layers of his uniform to get a look at the wound. It’s high on the right shoulder, the bullet still lodged underneath his collarbone.

The Asset stares blankly ahead as you remove the bullet and stop the bleeding, and the only indication he can feel what you’re doing is a slight tremor as you cauterize the wound. You bandage his shoulder, your movements efficient but gentle.

His body is familiar beneath your hands, and you blink hard as images drift to the surface—fragmented dreams and memories. He’s watching you now, the blue-grey eyes above the mask hazy with confusion and curiosity.

You have felt the warmth of his skin before.

You’ve been here before.

Fingers reach out towards you, gently prying at the mask on your face. Your muzzle. You close your eyes as its lifted away, breathing deeply the untainted air. His eyes widen in recognition and sadness, and you reach out to remove his mask, freeing him as well.

He’s handsome, breathtakingly so. Boyish yet rugged with a strong jaw and full lips, his gaze softens as you hesitantly caress his features. He sighs, trembling again under your touch.

Something breaks free deep within you, rising to the surface.

“Who are you? I know you.” Your voice is soft but hoarse from disuse, and it startles you both.

He frowns, his eyes growing distant. “I-I don’t know, but I remember you. I see you sometimes, in my dreams.”

“Is this a dream?”

He pauses, considering. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

His brow creases and he reaches out to you. You flinch away slightly as his fingers rest against your cheek, creating small pools of warmth. It’s both shocking and intimate, your touch-starved body begging for more. He lightly traces the lines of your face, trailing down your throat before resting his hand over your heart. He closes his eyes and relaxes visibly as he concentrates on your heartbeat.

“This feels real,” he whispers.

It was all so achingly familiar. You tried to remember him from before, but all you have is fleeting images. You can’t remember anything before the train, or why you were there in the first place.

He must have felt your pulse betray your distress, because he gently takes your hand, resting it above his own heart. The strong and steady rhythm beneath your fingers grounds you, drawing you back into the moment.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” he says softly.

You lean your forehead against his as rain starts to drum on the tin roof. His breath is warm on your face, his lips inches from yours. You close your eyes and time falls away as you both sit motionless, lost in each other’s heartbeats, the only indication that you are in fact still human.

He shifts, and you open your eyes to see him looking back at you. The tempo beneath your palm begins to increase as he tilts his face towards you, his lips grazing yours.

You close the distance, his soft lips meeting yours in a hesitant kiss. He lets out a shuddering breath, and both hands cup your face, drawing you closer. Long fingers run through his hair and he whimpers, parting his lips beneath yours as the warmth within him burns brighter.

Slowly, you both strip each other of your uniforms—the symbols of your servitude. You lie back on the floor and he pulls a fur over you as your bodies meet, hands caressing bare skin with touches so light they almost hurt. You moan and he pulls you closer, and your body intertwines with his as his touch strips away the last remaining shadows from your soul.

Right here, right now, you are no longer the Assets. You are just a man and a woman, finding refuge in each other.

He folds you in his arms, holding you tightly as you lay your head on his chest. You feel safe and comforted, and he looks at you with sad, kind eyes, kissing your forehead as your eyes grow heavy and you drift off to sleep.

You sleep easy, knowing that when the Handlers come in the morning you will have donned your masks, returning to what you truly are—the Assets once again.

And it’s beautiful yet horrifying. All the blood and the violence, the copper and cordite, the bodies stretching in a long line, leading to the two of you. You’re as familiar to each other as you are forgotten. Machines with human hearts.

You’ve been here before.

And you’ll do it again.

And again.

***

**Present Day**

Your eyes drifted open, and you could still hear the drumming of the rain on the tin roof, mixed with the soft breathing of the man lying next to you, one arm wrapped protectively around your middle.

You watched him as he sleeps, the same soft features from your dream. He’s so kind and gentle, it’s almost impossible to admit that he’s the Asset. That he was capable of those horrible things. But so are you—you’re the same.

Machines with human hearts.

Your eyes started to burn and you let the tears fall, remaining still so as not to wake him.

James Buchanan Barnes. Born March 10th, 1917. Captured by Hydra at age twenty-seven. Experimented upon and tortured, turned into an assassin and murderer. Parents, sisters, and a best friend, all left behind grieving for a man who was still alive but now a ghost.

The Winter Soldier.

The Asset.

Soldat.

An entire life taken from him. Even now that he’s free, you both know the demons will never stop calling. Neither of you will ever truly be free from what you’ve done.

And what would your own life look like? How old had you been when you were taken? Who had you left behind?

The tears continued to silently fall, and you felt a surge of anger flare within you. It was so wrong, so inherently evil. You wanted to strike out at the people who had done these things—to take from them.

Bucky began to stir next to you, and you turned your face away, clenching your jaw. You were so tired of crying, so tired of feeling confused and angry. You just wanted to feel normal again, but you weren’t sure if that was ever going to happen. You didn’t even know what normal was anymore.

“Hey.”

A large warm hand gently rubbed your shoulder. You took a shuddering breath and pushed your anger back; Bucky didn’t need to see that. His knuckles grazed your jaw, encouraging you to look at him. He didn’t bother asking if you were okay, you both knew that neither of you were.

You turned to face him, once again getting lost in his gaze. Blue eyes staring back at you with kindness and concern, a hint of sadness and something else…something you had seen in your dream.

“Hey,” you said, rolling onto your side and facing him fully. He reached up and tenderly brushed back a lock of your hair that had fallen forward.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You frowned, looking down at the sheets. You did want to talk about it; the memory had been unlike any you had before. The first part had been unpleasant, but the last bit…that was something else entirely. You took a deep breath, and when you spoke, your voice was hesitant.

“Mission in the mountains…somewhere in Russia, I think. A train.” You paused, not wanting to go into details. “We…well, we completed the mission. You were hurt, and we made it back to a safehouse. It was cold, and it started to rain.”

Bucky was looking at you intently now. He was barely breathing, and a slight flush had crept into his face. You wondered if he knew this memory too—if he knew where it was leading.

“You called in for extraction and I patched you up, it was a gunshot wound to the right shoulder. You were…you were looking at me. I remember your eyes. You took my mask off, and we…we…”

You blushed, not knowing how to continue. Bucky didn’t say anything, he simply pulled down the neck of the shirt he was wearing, revealing a neat round scar under his right collarbone, exactly where you remembered it. You shyly ran your fingers over the scar’s raised surface, and Bucky closed his eyes.

“I remember it too,” he said. 

Bucky reached out, pausing slightly before grazing his thumb over your cheekbone. He leaned in, and his lips hovered inches from yours as he looked up at you, silently asking permission. When your lips met it was hesitant at first, but it quickly developed into something more heated.

His lips were soft and sweet beneath yours, and you felt a strange doubling sensation. Kissing him then, kissing him now, it was the same—he felt like home.

Your breath hitched as he wound his fingers through your hair, pulling your closer. His lips parted beneath yours, and you felt a flame surge through you as his tongue touched yours. Strong hands ran down your back, urging the flame brighter as you moaned into his mouth.

You reach up to card your fingers through his chestnut locks, and you felt him smile and hum with pleasure. Bucky broke away, breathing hard. Your eyes met, and he looked at you with such obvious love and affection it took your breath away. You felt your eyes start to burn again, but the wetness you blinked back was from happiness instead of sorrow.

He sniffed, swallowing thickly as his own tears threatened to fall.

“I remember it too,” he repeated. “It’s you. It’s always been you. Over and over again, no matter how many times they tried to take you away, I always found you.”

“We always found each other,” you nodded. Your heart was so full it felt like it would burst. “You saved me.”

“We saved each other,” he smiled. “Come here.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms and rested your head against his chest as he nuzzled your hair. You closed your eyes and listened to the steady beat that was as familiar to you as your own, and you held him tightly, afraid he would slip away from you yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but this was the best way to split it or else the next chapter was going to be a whopper. We found out a little more about Bucky and Reader's past, and we're going to find out more about the Reader's pre-Hydra past next chapter. I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Brief mention of suicidal idealization, Angst, Fluff, Crying (pretty much every chapter, okay?)
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**Two weeks later**

Tony was in an extraordinarily good mood.

His buyer’s agent had just called to say he tracked down an extremely rare 1966 Shelby AC Cobra in mint condition, Pepper was coming home from her business trip today, he had just collected on a bet with Rhodey, _and_ he had leftovers from his favorite shawarma restaurant, currently reheating in the microwave.

It was a good day.

He hummed to himself as he bustled around the kitchen in the common room; Tony always hid his leftovers down there where Happy couldn’t find them. As he waited for his food, he glanced over to where the girl was sitting, curled like a cat on one end of the couch and reading a book.

It was a little unnerving, watching her sit calmly like that as if she were a normal person, when he knew full well what she and Barnes were both capable of.

_Come to think of it, where is that one-armed amnesiac?_

He looked around, but neither Barnes nor Rogers were anywhere in sight. It was one of the first times he had seen her without Barnes hovering around like a protective guard dog.

It was no secret that he and Rogers didn’t get along, but Tony and Barnes straight up hated each other. Tony had his reasons. Part of the brunette’s antagonism towards him fed off of Rogers’ dislike, he knew, but things had gotten pretty heated between him and Barnes lately.

Tony gritted his teeth. He had made the first move and allowed the girl to move upstairs with everyone else, but that still didn’t mean she could just be left unsupervised. She was still too unstable—it had only been a month since her last outburst, and he had seen what she had done to Barnes’ face.

“JARVIS, where is Sergeant Barnes?”

_“Sergeant Barnes is currently in medical, having an adjustment made to his arm. Shall I contact him, sir?”_

“Yeah, have him meet us up here when he’s done…he and I need to have a word.”

_“Very good, sir.”_

Tony sat at the counter, eating his shawarma and watching the girl as his irritation grew. He fingered the access button in his pocket; he was fairly confident he would be able to suit up and take her down before she caused too much damage.

He chewed slowly. It was funny, how harmless she looked. Her face was relaxed, completely engrossed in her book as the fingers of her right hand tapped out a tattoo against the couch. Tony found himself mesmerized by her fingers, constantly in motion--he wasn’t sure she was even aware she was doing it.

A melody played through his head, and a long-dormant memory slipped to the surface. Tony frowned. Curiosity finally got the better of him, and he cleared his throat loudly.

“Um, hey—you there.”

_You there? Christ, we have to figure out her name._

The girl looked up, startled. She looked around for a moment as if to confirm Tony was addressing her.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

_She’s very polite. Clearly didn’t learn that from Barnes._

“Yeah, uh, hi. Do you play the piano?”

She looked confused. “Um, I-I don’t think so…”

Tony narrowed his eyes, an idea starting to form. “C’mon with me, I want to show you something.” He started towards the elevators, his shawarma laying forgotten on the counter.

“But Bucky…”

“JARVIS, have Barnes meet us up on the entertainment level.”

_“Will do, sir.”_

Tony gestured towards the elevators and was almost surprised when the girl stood and obediently followed him into the elevator. They rode up in awkward silence.

The entertainment level was the open area where he hosted functions. It opened out into a large balcony edged with floor length windows. The room was bathed in sunlight, and without drunken revelers filling it the space seemed almost cavernous. Tony strode across the room and the girl followed.

There in the corner of the room stood a grand piano. It didn’t get much use but it was, of course, tuned to perfection.

“Why don’t you have a seat, see if it stirs up anything.”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “But I don’t—”

“Just give it a try.”

Tony was almost giddy with anticipation, eager to see if his hunch was correct. He was so engrossed in his experiment that his early apprehension about her was completely forgotten. The girl looked at him for a moment, then slowly pulled out the bench and sat down.

For the longest time she just sat there, looking down at the keys as if she had never seen them before. She frowned and ran her fingers lightly over the ivory, stroking the keys so lightly they didn’t make a sound. Her gaze was glassy and distant, and he watched as her fingers began to move slightly, hovering over the keys.

Tentatively, she pressed one down, the rich note filling the space. She pressed it again, and the ghost of a smile flickered across her face.

Her right hand began to move across the keys. It was joined by her left hand, and Tony gasped as beautiful music began to fill the room.

It was a simple song. Tony didn’t know a lot about piano music, but it sounded like an old ragtime song to him. It was sweet and slow, and as he watched her play memories of watching another woman play filtered across his mind, and he smiled.

The elevator doors dinged open. Angry footsteps came up behind him, and Tony didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Stark, what the hell do you—”

Now he turned. Barnes was standing a few feet behind him, his mouth agape and all traces of anger gone from his face. Tony watched as emotions played out across the super soldier’s face—shock, happiness, and surprisingly—love.

Barnes opened and shut his mouth a few times and slowly took a few steps forward, seemingly unaware of who he was standing next to. He stood there in stunned silence for a few moments.

“H-How did you know?” Barnes’ voice was hoarse as he continued to watch the girl play.

Tony was silent for a moment. This was it. _This_ was the reason he resented Barnes so much, but in this moment, right now, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anger towards the former assassin.

“My mother played.”

Three simple words, but upon hearing them Barnes went rigid, visibly paling. Tony continued to speak.

“The girl…she was tapping her fingers, and it reminded me of watching my mother play. They way her hands moved across the keys. It’s one of my fondest memories of her. I saw the girl doing the same thing and I figured, what the hell—take her up here and see if I’m right.”

Barnes didn’t say anything. He was looking down at the ground, and Tony felt something move inside him seeing the anguish on his face. It was time to discuss the elephant in the room.

“I know how they died. Rogers told me.”

Barnes’ eyes widened slightly, and he seemed to tense as if preparing for a fight. When Tony didn’t move and he realized the hit wasn’t coming, his shoulders dropped and he glanced over at Tony.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Again, they were simple words, but Tony could feel the torture in each one.

When Steve told him, he had wanted to kill Barnes, but he had cooled down after some long talks with Pepper and some expensive therapy sessions. Especially when he saw how broken the man was, unable to take care of himself or even remember simple things. Tony was willing to let things alone after seeing the former assassin live out his own version of purgatory day after day.

Yes, he hated Barnes for what he had done, but at the same time he couldn’t imagine having to live with a thing like that.

“Do you even remember them?”

“I remember all of them,” he whispered.

Barnes wasn’t crying, not yet, but the tears were threatening. Seeing the depths of his misery and hearing his words shifted something deep within him, and against the backdrop of the beautiful music Tony began to see Barnes as more than just a mindless tool—he was a living, breathing human, drowning in pain and regret.

And just like that his antagonism vanished, replaced with pity and maybe just a bit of respect.

“I don’t blame you, you know. Maybe I did in the beginning—okay, yes—I blamed you at first. And maybe our mutual hatred came to a head over the girl, but…I get it now. Seeing her struggle, seeing you care for her…I honestly didn’t think you had a kind bone in your body. Maybe I didn’t want to see it.”

Tony rocked back and forth on his feet, unused to sharing so many emotions. “But I understand now how little control you had, and I don’t blame you anymore. I blame Hydra. They should’ve been the focus of my anger, not you. And for that I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s eyes closed, and his jaw clenched in an effort to force the tears back. “I’m sorry too,” he said simply, and Tony felt the weight of his words. Bucky took a deep breath and steeled himself.

“I…I don’t hate you. I just…didn’t know how to act around you. It’s hard. And with the girl…” he paused, his expression softening as he watched her. “I can’t help but be protective of her.”

Tony snorted. “I can be an asshole sometimes, I get it. And I understand about the girl too—she’s special to you.”

He watched a smile ghost its way across Barnes’ lips. “Yes, she is.”

“Whatever you need, Barnes, I’m on board. Whatever it takes, we’ll find the people responsible for these things, and bring them to justice.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he said. He paused, and gestured towards the piano where the girl played on. “And thank you…for this.”

“Please…Tony is fine, I think we’re on a first name basis now. Bucky.”

A shy smile flitted across Bucky’s face, and to Tony it was like he was looking at a different person.

“All right, we’re having a nice little moment here, but if you hug me I swear I’ll punch you in the face, super serum or not.”

Bucky chuckled lightly and shot back with a look that said he’d love to see him try. Tony shook his head and grinned as he turned to leave. Some things won’t ever change. 

*

Bucky watched Tony’s retreating back, literally stunned by what had just taken place.

First the discovery of the girl’s talent and the fact that it had been _Tony_ who saw it. Then Tony’s startling confession, followed by the awkward truce. Bucky’s head was spinning, and he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. A long journal session—that’s what he needed. It always helped him to work through complex emotions.

He wanted to talk to Steve, too. After all, it was he who had told Tony, and Bucky wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet. For now, though, he just wanted to be with her.

The song ended, and the girl hesitated a moment before starting to play again. This song was different, slower, and achingly beautiful.

Bucky drew a shaky breath and sat down at the piano bench.

She played on, completely oblivious to his presence, and the song that echoed through the room was the most beautiful and heartbreaking piece he had ever heard, made all the more poignant because _she_ was playing it. The music ebbed and flowed, tugging on his heart and making him feel as if he was blissfully floating away, wrapped in its warm embrace.

Fingers danced gracefully over the keys as the melody soared on. He watched as she played, feeling like he was glimpsing her soul. Her face was open and serene, and although she looked down at the keys her eyes were far, far away.

He felt a surge of anger towards the people who could take those hands, hands that could create something so beautiful, and turn them into weapons that could cause so much pain. He wanted to hurt them, for everything they had taken from her, for everything they took from _him_ , and for everything they had made them do.

The revelation of their shared history a few weeks ago had opened a floodgate of memories, intimate moments stolen and then forgotten. But this, this was something different, and he realized that she was quickly becoming so much more to him.

Bucky was falling in love with her.

Not just the memory of her, but the person she was _now_. She was like a flower that had survived the last tinge of winter frost and was now blooming before his eyes, so beautiful she took his breath away.

The song ended, and for a moment neither of them moved, neither of them even breathed, unwilling to break the silence as the last notes drifted away.

Bucky stole a glance at her, and he put his arm around her when he saw the tears streaming down her face. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I remember them,” she whispered. “My parents…I remember them.”

She sniffed and wiped her face. Her gaze was distant but happy, as if she looked hard enough she could see them again. She smiled sadly.

“My father taught me to play. I remember him sitting in his easy chair while I played, listening and reading a book. There was a little cat curled up in his lap, it was an orange tabby, and he would laugh every time it tried to bat the book out of his hands.” She let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh. “I remember his laugh.”

“I couldn’t have been older than nine or ten, my feet barely reached the pedals. I had to sit way at the edge of the bench, and it was a little uncomfortable but I loved to play. It was snowing outside, and I could smell the cherry smoke from his pipe and…cinnamon, I think…coming from the kitchen. My mother was in there, she wore a patchwork apron and scolded my father for smoking in the house. Dad, he…he told me to play that song, it was her favorite. She stood at the door, listening, and I can remember her smile. She was beautiful.”

She frowned, and his heart broke to see the despair and confusion in her face.

“How can I love something so much yet forget it entirely?” she asked. “How could I just forget _them_ like that?”

She looked up at him as if he had an answer, but he didn’t have one for her. Bucky shook his head.

“I never would have thought I could forget Steve. Someone who meant that much to me, who had been with me for so long…but when I finally came back to myself on that carrier it was like looking at a stranger. Someone I _knew_ I should remember, but I didn’t know why.”

Bucky sighed and drew her closer. “I did though, eventually. I remembered. And so will you. It’ll come faster now, and it’s going to be hard, but it _will_ come back. Hydra…they tried to erase us, to take what we loved and wipe it from our minds, but the ones we love aren’t in there…they’re in our hearts. And they can never take that away from us.”

Bucky cupped her face in his hands, one flesh and one metal. Even after he had started to remember, even after Steve had brought him back, he never thought he would be able to feel again. He was a monster—incapable and undeserving of love. His heart was carved from ice, frozen and useless in his chest until she thawed it and it began to beat once more.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and she sighed into his touch, and he knew she understood what he was trying to say. His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, and he could see the sentiment echoed in her eyes.

Bucky leaned forward until their lips were almost touching. Her warm breath ghosted across his face, and he felt a low heat start to build.

“Bucky…Bucky, I—”

He cut her off, capturing her lips with his and weaving his fingers through her hair. Bucky moaned low as he felt her fingers trail down his back, little shivers of electricity following in their wake.

God, he wanted more. It was almost painful, how much he wanted her. His breath came in short gasps as he struggled to control himself, not wanting to push things too far, too fast. Finally he broke away, contenting himself with burying his face in her neck and breathing in her scent.

She ran her fingers through his hair and he sat back, mesmerized by the way she looked at him. Her fingers wove through his, and she brought his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles. Her eyes never wavered from his, speaking volumes. Nothing _needed_ to be said. They both understood their treacherous past and the uncertainty of their future, and were prepared to face it all—together.

***

Three days later, Bucky and the girl were on their way back to their room after a marathon sparring session in the gym in the hopes that they could tire themselves out enough to get a good night’s rest.

Neither of them had been sleeping well. The memories were coming back hot and heavy for them both, and not many of them had been pleasant. One of them would wake screaming and shaking from the throes of some terrible nightmare and the other would comfort, and the next night the roles would reverse.

The nightmares were awful, but the cuddling that came afterwards was nice. It was so strange, what their relationship was—caught in a limbo between then and now. He was intimately familiar with her body and part of him longed to rediscover her in that way, but he held back. They were lovers once, but he couldn’t ask that of her when they still didn’t know if there was someone out there waiting for her.

Bucky’s stomach clenched at that thought.

Instead, he took her hand in his. She smiled up at him, but it was strained. Bucky knew she was getting more headaches, but she was just as stoic and stubborn as he was when it came to admitting pain. She had one right now, he knew, her silence and cloudy gaze a dead giveaway.

“You hungry?”

He could smell something heavenly coming from the kitchen, and he heard Motown music drifting down the halls. Sam must be in there cooking—if that was the case it meant Italian, and Bucky’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. He was starving.

The girl made a face. “No, I feel a little queasy. I just think I’m going to go lie down for a bit, but you go ahead.”

“You sure?”

She chuckled. “Bucky, I can hear your stomach from here. I’ll be fine. Go.”

The music grew louder as they approached the kitchen. He looked over at her; she was a little pale.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta eat something.” He stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a protein shake from the fridge—vanilla, her favorite. “Why don’t I walk you to the room, make sure you get settled, okay?”

“Bucky, really I’m fi—"

Bucky stopped and turned when he realized she wasn’t following him anymore. She was frozen in place, her eyes glassy and vacant. Slowly, she turned her head in the direction of the music, the remaining color draining from her face as she swayed slightly.

Bucky rushed to her side, confused and alarmed. Suddenly, he realized what was going on. It was the music—it must be triggering a memory, a big one.

“Sam—turn that music off!” he barked.

Before Sam could shut the radio off, the girl’s knees buckled and her eyes rolled back, and she slid limply to the floor. Bucky caught her before she could fall, and he cradled her with one arm as his fingers sought the pulse in her throat. It was a bit fast, but strong and steady.

“She okay? Do you need me to call Dr. Cho?” Sam asked as he crouched down next to them.

Bucky nodded. “Please, Sam. I think she’s okay but I just want to make sure. If this is what I think it is, I’m pretty sure she’s just passed out.”

“What the hell happened?”

“It was that music. Sometimes triggered memories can be a bit intense when it all comes back at once.”

“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t know.”

Bucky shook his head. “Not your fault, Sam—there’s no way either of us could have known. I got triggered once playing cards with Steve. Flopped right down onto the floor…Steve thought he’d killed me. I know it’s a little weird, but this is actually a good thing. Whatever she’s remembering, it’s big.”

Swift but calm footsteps sounded down the corridor, and Bucky looked up to see Helen heading in their direction.

“What happened, Bucky?” she asked.

“I think it was a triggered memory. She heard the music Sam was playing and went rigid, then she dropped right down on the floor. Right before that she said she was feeling sick, and I’m pretty sure she had a headache again.”

Helen nodded. “Atonic seizure,” she said, checking the reaction in the girl’s eyes. “Looks like it’s over now, though.”

“A seizure?” Bucky started to panic. “Is that—is she—”

Helen gave him a reassuring smile as she took the girl’s pulse. “She’ll be fine Bucky, it was a very mild seizure. Very common when recovering from brain trauma—you had several when you first got here.”

“But I don’t remember—”

“You wouldn’t. It’s almost like passing out, except she’ll be a little more disoriented when she wakes up.”

The card game. He seemed to remember waking up in medical afterwards with newly recollected memories of playing cards with Steve, Dum Dum, and Monty. It had been pretty much like that—now he understood why Steve had been so concerned all the time. Helen saw him relax a bit, and she continued.

“This is just the brain’s way of resetting itself after everything you’ve been through. You and she showed the same damage to the areas of the brain that govern long term memories and free will. Focused electroconvulsive therapy is irreversible to the normal human, but your bodies are able to heal these areas. Sights, smells, and even music can trigger these resets,” she said, nodding to the radio. “May I ask what song was playing?”

Sam thought for a second. “ _Tracks of my Tears_ by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles.”

“And that came out in, what—the late sixties?”

He nodded.

“She could be remembering her past before Hydra.” Helen looked down at the unconscious girl and straightened. “She’ll probably be out for a few hours, I’d still like to bring her to medical to recover though, just to be on the safe side.”

Bucky nodded and lifted the girl carefully in his arms. As he followed Helen down to medical, he reflected on this new development.

The late 1960’s--that could be when she was taken, if that was when the song came out. Despite his concern for her, Bucky felt a surge of excitement. First the piano a couple nights ago and now this; she could be starting to regain some memory of who she was.

He wanted this so badly for her. She had been struggling with this—he knew it—and he knew all too well how horrible it felt to not even know who you were. At least he’d had Steve to help him along with it.

They got the girl settled in one of the beds, and Helen dimmed the lights. Bucky adamantly opposed using the restraints, even though they had been standard procedure with him just in case he woke up swinging after one of his episodes.

“I’m going to be right here the whole time Helen, it’d take a stick of dynamite to make me leave right now.”

Helen pursed her lips, but in the end she relented. Soon, it was just Bucky and the girl. He pulled the covers over her and brushed her hair back, and he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. For awhile he just sat there, lost in thought as he watched her breathe.

“Buck? You in here?” Steve rapped in the open doorway.

“Back here, Steve.”

Steve walked into the room and settled in the chair next to him.

“Hey Buck, Sam told me what happened. How is she?” he asked, looking over at the girl’s still form with concern.

“Still out. She’s all right, though…it’s just a waiting game, now.”

Steve nodded. “This happened a couple times with you. At least we know to expect it now—that first time you scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Steve looked up at him sharply. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Buck. It wasn’t your fault—none of it.”

Bucky was silent for a minute. He looked at the girl and back at Steve, reflecting on how the roles had changed.

“Thank you, Steve. I…I don’t think I truly understood everything you did for me until now. How _hard_ you fought to get me back…to protect me. I didn’t realize how hard it was for you until now, because this…watching her go through this and trying to guide her through it…it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” He looked up at Steve, his eyes starting to burn. “Thank you Steve, for bringing me back. For not giving up on me.”

Steve huffed, and Bucky could see he was struggling to suppress his own emotions. “I made a promise…’til the end of the line. I let you fall once—”

“Steve—"

“No Buck, just let me say this. I let you fall and I’ll never forgive myself for that. You took care of me all those years, and I…I couldn’t let you fall again.”

Bucky sniffed and wiped his face. “You didn’t, Steve, it wasn’t the train. I was falling ever since I got captured, ever since Zola’s lab. It wasn’t your fault.”

Steve looked down and didn’t say anything. Bucky knew he still blamed himself, that he would _always_ blame himself, but he didn’t know how to convince him it wasn’t his fault.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated. “I know a thing or two about guilt.”

“Bucky, you know that’s not your fault. You—you weren’t yourself.”

“It’s hard to maintain that distinction when you’re living alongside the families of your victims.” Bucky’s voice was quiet, and they both knew he was talking about Tony’s parents.

“Hydra’s victims,” Steve said vehemently.

“Maybe, but it was my hands that did it. What I did all those years—Christ, what _she’s_ done, I can see now how it’s been eating away at me. I’m so tired. I thought that it was my punishment, you know, to live with that, and honestly the only thing that kept me from blowing my brains out was you.”

Steve paled.

“Buck…”

“It’s okay Steve. That’s no way to live, I know. I didn’t then, but I do now…I don’t know if it’s redemption, or if that’s even possible for us, but she makes me want to try at least. She makes me want to live—really live. Even if it’s just to spite those bastards.”

Steve wiped his face and watched the girl sleep for a few moments, and he smiled slowly.

“You know, I may have helped you part of the way, but she’s bringing you back, too. You’ve changed, Buck. I felt like all we had managed to save was an empty shell, and it…it hurt. It hurt to see you like that. But I feel like I’m finally getting my best friend back now. I love you, Buck.”

“I love you too, Steve. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Bucky smiled and leaned against the man who was his brother in everything but blood, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

“She liked you, you know.”

“We…we have a bit of a history together,” Bucky said. “One we’re just starting to figure out for ourselves.”

Steve smirked. “That’s not what I meant Buck. She really likes you—it’s more than just memories. I can see it in the way she looks at you.”

Bucky reeled. Was that true? Could she be feeling the same things he was?

“She…I know it’s crazy, I don’t even know her name, or what her story is…I don’t know if there’s someone out there, still waiting for her, but I love her. I loved her then, as much as I was capable of experiencing that emotion, and I love her now. I love _who_ she is now. I’ve never felt anything like this before, she just…”

“What are you waiting for, then?”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t, Steve. I won’t--not until she knows who she is, and what was left behind. I’m not going to complicate things for her.”

Steve rested his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Well, just don’t wait too long, okay? Take it from someone who’s been there.”

***

You struggled up from the pit, your thoughts gummy and disjointed. You felt weak and disoriented, like you had lived an entire lifetime in a few short hours. Two baritone voices filled your ears, and gradually you came back to yourself.

It was an effort, and it took some time before you were finally able to open your eyes. The light was dim, but you could make out the clinical coldness of a hospital room. Anxiety started to build until you saw two deep blue eyes staring back at you.

“It’s okay, you’re all right—I’m right here with you. You collapsed, you’re in the medical wing in the Tower.” Bucky took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

You were silent for a moment, processing. You swallowed thickly and looked up at him, your heart heavy and your mind reeling with everything that had just come surging back to you.

“My…my name is Y/N.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**Wells, Maine - September 1966**

Music and the shuffling of papers could be heard coming from the cramped little office off the band room of Wells High School. It wasn’t Schubert or Bach like you would expect from the music teacher, but the soulful sounds from bands like _the Temptations_ and _the Four Tops_. The woman in question was seated at the desk, tapping a red pen in time with the song.

You sighed and sat back in your chair, frowning at the stack of reports yet to be graded. The pleasant smell of cut grass and crisp leaves wafted through the open window, and outside you could hear the football team preparing for Friday’s game. Fall in New England. You loved your job, but right now you just wanted to be outside enjoying the first taste of your favorite season.

“Knock, knock…am I disturbing the maestro?”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed but you were secretly pleased at the interruption. Rich brown eyes and an unruly cowlick peeked at you from around the doorframe, and you couldn’t suppress your smile any longer.

“More like saving me from a mountain of assignments to grade.”

He waltzed into the room and plopped down dramatically on the couch in the corner.

“Ugh, tell me about it. I’m still trying to wade through last week’s Calculus tests. So you wanna get outta here?”

“John, did you not just hear me?”

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s Thursday night,” he whined.

You raised your eyebrows. “Which means what exactly?”

“It’s almost Friday—It’s practically the weekend. Let loose a little bit. Come have dinner with me, and then we can go neckin’ up at Jefferson’s Point like all the kids do. It’ll be fun, you’ll see. Pleeeease?”

He fixed you with the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You’d been working at Wells High for a little over two years now, and it had taken John only about six months to worm his way into your heart. The math teacher had courted you relentlessly, wooing you at every turn. He was bold and inappropriate at the best of times, but you realized quickly that those were defense mechanisms to hide his insecurities, and he had eyes only for you.

You loved him. You honestly and truly did.

You frowned and pretended to think, playing out the game a little bit longer. “Well, I suppose,” you said with a dutiful sigh. “As long as you have me back home by ten sharp—I wouldn’t want my reputation spoiled by a scoundrel like you.”

John grinned broadly at having won your little charade. He helped you gather up your papers, tucking them away neatly in your briefcase.

“Great concert last night, by the way, although the soloist was a bit pitchy,” he teased.

“Stick to your figures, John, and I’ll stick to my pitchy soprano.”

“There’s only one figure I’m interested in, darlin’, and it’s right in front of me.” He hummed and cocked an eyebrow suggestively, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re absolutely impossible. Sometimes I think my students are more mature than you are.”

“Part of my charm, my dear.”

The radio was still on, and you heard the first few notes of _The Miracles’_ “Tracks of my Tears”. It was one of your favorite songs, and John knew it.

“Ooh, good song,” he said, turning up the radio. “C’mon, Y/N, dance with me.”

You giggled and turned it back down a bit. “Quiet, Principal MacCarthy is still here, and you know how he feels about pop music—scandalous!”

You gave a fair imitation of the prudish administrator, and John laughed.

“Not nearly as scandalous as the hemline on that skirt you wore Tuesday--don’t think I didn’t notice.”

His gaze fell to your legs and he bit his lip, and you felt your pulse quicken. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, moving your hips to the temp of the song. Lips brushing your ear, he softly sang to you in a surprisingly pleasant tenor.

_“People say I’m the life of the party, ‘cause I tell a joke or two._

_Although I might be laughing loud and hardy, deep inside I’m blue._

_So take a good look at my face. You see my smile looks out of place._

_If you look closer, it’s easy to trace the tracks of my tears.”_

You danced together in the cramped little office until the song ended. John continued to hold you, and you smiled happily, safe in the comfort of his arms. He bent down and kissed you sweetly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” you said, turning and kissing him back. “I love you too.”

Arm in arm, you gathered your briefcases and walked down the hall, the door closing softly behind you.

**Fort Campbell, Kentucky – November 1967**

The men of the 506th Infantry Regiment and their families were out on the lawn of the Rec Hall, enjoying an impromptu farewell party. They were shipping out on Tuesday, headed for Vietnam.

John had joined the army six months ago. You had fought it initially, but you both knew the draft was inevitable. This way he could at least choose. Besides, you couldn’t argue with his want to do his part, not when there were so many men over there already.

He had been assigned to the 101st Airborne Division and stationed at Fort Campbell, where he went through supplementary training and advanced to Sergeant. You had found a job at the nearby Hopkinsville High School, and for a few blissful months you settled into your new life as an army wife.

You twirled the ring on your finger. It had been a quick wedding, but it wasn’t like you had never discussed it—you and John knew you would _someday_ be married, but in light of everything going on around you, you both decided not to wait. Life, as you saw day after day on the news, was too short and uncertain. As his wife you could live with him in base housing, you would have the support of your fellow army wives, and you would be privy to information about his deployment overseas that you otherwise wouldn’t have gotten.

Despite the prospect of his leaving, you were wonderfully happy—there was already talks of starting a family when he got back, and you blushed in anticipation of that thought.

You strolled arm in arm towards the makeshift dance floor, waving to both your and his parents. They had come down to see him off and to be there for you for the first few weeks he was gone. They were nervous, you could tell, especially your Dad; he had been a Marine in WWII and knew exactly what John was in for, although he never spoke about it much.

You felt very pretty, walking arm and arm with him. He was a good looking man, and dressed in his uniform he looked quite smart. You had just gotten your hair done yesterday, a cute and modern bob. Your heels clicked across the floor and your dress hugged your body in all the right ways, stylish and conservative but sensual as well.

John led you out onto the dance floor, and you smiled up at him as he wrapped an arm around you and you began to dance. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you; it was as if he were memorizing every inch of you, from the way your eyes locked with his to the taste of your lipstick, to the way your dress hugged your curves.

The song changed, and you both froze for a moment.

You tried to put on a brave face for him, you really tried, but he saw the tears in your eyes as you heard the song—your song. John kissed you lightly on the forehead and the tip of your nose, and you gave him a watery smile. His hand soothed down your back and he drew you close, swaying with the music.

_Take a good look at my face, you’ll see my smile looks out of place_

_If you look closer, it’s easy to trace…_

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear. “I don’t have all the answers, but I have faith that we’re gonna make it through this. I never thought I could be lucky enough to have a woman like you by my side.” He reached up and gently caressed your cheekbone, and you saw his eyes were red as well. “And knowing you’re waiting here for me is all I need. I’ll come home to you.”

He gently tilted your chin, capturing your lips with his. A lone tear fell, and he kissed it away.

“Come here,” he whispered, holding you close as you both swayed to the music.

You nuzzled into his neck, drinking in his scent and feeling him move against you. It was one of the last times you would be able to hold him like this for a long time, and you suddenly wanted to scream. Here you were, dancing at a party, when boys were getting shipped overseas and sent home in body bags. And John—your John—he could be one of them.

He must have sensed your distress, because he leaned down and started singing in your ear. This time, it wasn’t silly or suggestive, and you lost yourself in the sweet tenor of his voice. The world fell away and for a moment it was just you two, dancing as the song played on.

**Route 41, Kentucky - October 1968**

The headlights of your little Ford Fairlane cheerily lit up the gloom as you motored down Route 41, heading home from your Tuesday night choir practice at Hopkinsville High. You were tired and more than ready to get back to your comfortable bed and curl up with a good book for the night. On the radio, the music ended and the announcer shifted to the news.

_“In Vietnam, the men of the 101 st Airborne and 1st Cavalry Divisions are beginning to make their way out of the Quang Nam Province as Operation Wheeler comes to a close. Over 220 lives have been lost in this campaign. General Samuel Koster said today in a statement that--”_

Upon hearing the name of his unit you sucked in a breath and turned up the radio, but the announcer had already moved on to other topics.

_“In other news, the astronauts of the Apollo 7 mission are expected to make the first live TV broadcast from space…”_

You hated this. John sent you letters as often as he could, but he was on the front lines and the mail system was unreliable. As it was, he had to mostly stick to small talk, or else it would be censored. He kept the tone of the letters light, but you could tell he was worn to the bone. You had no idea what was going on, how he was doing, or if he was okay. All you knew is that he was still alive, and you supposed that would have to be enough for now.

Your heart ached for John, but it wasn’t too much longer now—he would be home next month.

You weren’t kidding yourself. You knew the statistics. You knew every day he was over there was a risk, and although you were beside yourself with excitement at the thought of having him home again, it also terrified you. He was so close to making it out—you prayed for just a little more luck to make it through these last few days.

The news ended and a song came on, and you smiled as you heard those old, familiar words.

_Baby take a good look at my face. You see my smile looks out of place._

_If you look closer, it’s easy to trace the tracks of my tears._

On you drove, lost in the memories brought forth by the words. You almost didn’t hear the loud pop from the right rear tire when it blew, and you gripped the wheel and struggled to make it over to the shoulder. The big car ground to a halt and you sat for a moment, heart thudding in your chest.

_Shit. Flat tire._

Of all the luck. This stretch of 41 was utterly deserted, and it was too late to call the auto club. Oh well, you didn’t want to wait on them anyway—you were tired and just wanted to get home. Your Dad had made sure his daughter knew how to change a tire, and it was time to put that knowledge to use.

You sighed and opened the door, thankful you had worn sensible flats today instead of heels. Your dress was probably going to get ruined, but there was nothing to be done about that. Before you got the spare and the tire jack out you walked around to the back of the vehicle to inspect the damage. Frowning, you bent lower.

_Hmmm…that’s strange, it looks like the sidewall blew._

You had expected to see a nail embedded in the tread, but instead the sidewall had ruptured—and these were new tires, too. Leaning closer, you fingered a small hole in the side of the tire. It almost looked like…

You never heard him coming.

An arm snaked around your middle, drawing you backwards off your feet and leaving you no time to react as a vice-like hand clamped over your face. You kicked and flailed, drawing in the breath to scream, but the caustic sting of chemicals from the cloth bit into your brain and the world slipped sideways before going dark.

***

**Present Day**

You struggled up from the pit, your thoughts gummy and disjointed. Your head hurt—god, did it hurt—and your mouth felt dry. Fingers twitched against a soft blanket as you tried to open your eyes.

You felt weak and disoriented, like you had lived an entire lifetime in a few short hours. Two baritone voices filled your ears, and gradually you came back to yourself.

It was an effort, and it took some time before you were finally able to open your eyes. Your vision swam with a strange doubling effect as images from your memories bled over into reality.

_Where am I? Where’s John?_

The light was dim, but you could make out the clinical coldness of a hospital room. Anxiety and fear started to build until you saw two deep blue eyes staring back at you.

_Bucky…wait, what?_

_Oh my god._

“It’s okay, you’re all right—I’m right here with you. You collapsed, you’re in the medical wing in the Tower.” Bucky took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

He was worried about you, you could see it etched on his face. Steve hovered over his shoulder, looking just as concerned.

You were silent for a moment, processing. It was too much. Your eyes closed again and you took a few deep breaths to steady yourself. Swallowing thickly, you looked up at Bucky, your heart heavy and your mind reeling with everything that had just come surging back to you.

“My…my name is Y/N.”

Bucky stiffened, his eyes going wide. He repeated it, barely breathing your name as a slow smile lit up his face. He said it again, and you felt him squeeze your hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

The way he looked at you with such complete openness and warmth calmed your inner turmoil, and you returned his smile.

“Hi, Bucky.”

He gently brushed your hair back. “How are you feeling, really? Do you want me to get Dr. Cho for you?”

You swallowed, wincing at the dryness of your throat. “I’m alright, just some water, please?”

Bucky turned and grabbed a glass from the bedside table, holding it for you when he saw how badly your hands were shaking.

“It’s okay, Helen said that you’d be a little disoriented and weak when you woke up, but it’ll go away.”

You thanked him and laid back. Your headache was almost gone, and you were able to think a little more clearly now.

Bucky looked over at Steve hesitantly, then back at you. “Um, do you remember anything else?”

You could tell he didn’t want to push too hard, but his excitement was clear.

You told him how you were a music teacher from upstate Maine. You told him about Kentucky and being taken. You told him everything you could remember—the clothes, the music--right down to the last detail, as Steve scribbled away furiously in a notebook.

“This is really good, Y/N,” Steve said. “We can use this information to find out the rest…fill in some of the gaps.”

You hesitated at his enthusiasm. Bucky sensed your unease, and his smile faded.

“Y/N…what is it?”

You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze. “There’s more.”

You hadn’t said a word about John yet. Your husband. You could still feel the love you had for him, so real you could almost touch it, yet he also seemed a stranger to you. John could be alive or dead—he’d be over seventy if he were still alive, and your head reeled with what that meant for you.

Because you were in love with Bucky. You had been for a while, and you were pretty sure he had strong feelings for you as well. Maybe for him it was just the fact that you had once been lovers, but for you it was real—it was here and now. You loved the man he was now, the kind, caring, protective man right in front of you, not just the memory of what you both had together.

“I…I’m…I was…I was married.”

Bucky’s smile faltered for only a second. It remained, but it was completely gone from his eyes. You could see his heart breaking there, and your stomach clenched.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

Steve’s mouth was open, and you caught the subtle flick of his eyes towards Bucky. “Um, can you tell me what you remember about him?”

You told Steve what you knew. Bucky sat there and listened, still holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across the back, but you could see he had retreated deep within himself. His eyes were still warm but they were blank, betraying none of the emotions that were warring inside him. You reached the end and sat in silence, Steve’s pencil the only sound as he scribbled down the last few details.

Bucky fidgeted and cleared his throat. “I uh, I’m gonna go get Helen, see if we can get you outta here.”

Without waiting for an answer he got up hastily and left the room. Steve caught the look on your face as you watched him leave.

“He’ll be okay Y/N, it’s just a lot to take in. Are…are _you_ okay? I know this has got to be hard…”

You paused. “I don’t really know how I feel, about any of this. It’s just…I need some time to process. This is so…it’s a little overwhelming.”

Steve gripped your hand reassuringly. “We have resources now—it’s amazing what they can find out nowadays. We’re gonna try to get everything we can. We’ll figure it out, Y/N.”

***

Tony ended up taking the lead on the search for Y/N’s parents and her husband. Sam helped where he could; he had contacts at the VA that could help get military records. Bucky didn’t have access to much other than basic internet, but he _did_ know how to use a computer, thanks to Sam—which was more than could be said for Steve, who was utterly useless with computers.

Bucky loved technology. Whereas Steve wanted to live in the past, Bucky embraced the advantages that 2013 afforded. The computer was neat, but the cellphone blew his mind, especially when Sam showed him how to program music into it.

He had asked Sam about the song that had triggered her, and Sam made a playlist in Bucky’s phone with that song and a bunch of others from the same time period. Sam had given him quite an education on late sixties and early seventies music, and Bucky loved it.

He listened to the playlist as he conducted his own search, learning more about the late sixties and the Vietnam War. He read the headlines and learned about life in the sixties, imagining how Y/N would have looked then. It wasn’t too strange—he had seen the picture Steve had given her of him before the war, and he knew she was just as curious about his life before Hydra as he was of hers.

Bucky found that the sixties weren’t all that different from the forties. The war was different, that was sure, but the values were similar. If anything, he liked the music more—it rang a little truer for him rather than some of the blatant propaganda of the forties.

The research was great, but he missed the budding relationship they had.

Bucky was struggling. He didn’t know how to act around her, not after the revelation in medical a few days ago that had left him reeling. It was what he had been fearing all along—she was married. He wasn’t that surprised, not really. A beautiful girl like that was bound to have attracted someone.

She was an army wife. An army wife with a deployed husband, no less.

His stomach churned just thinking about it. Nothing had changed for him—he still loved her, but every time he was around her now it felt like his heart was breaking all over again, knowing there was possibly another man out there who held sway over her heart.

So Bucky kept his distance. He was still there for her every need, every nightmare and every small victory, comforting her and being there for her in every way—but as a friend. She had gone to bed early that first night, sleeping in the same bed they had shared, but Bucky had slept in the second bedroom that night, and for every night after that. It hurt and he missed her terribly, but he just couldn’t put that burden on her.

Y/N was conflicted as well, he could tell. It was hurting her, to be kept at a distance. She didn’t know if her husband was alive or dead, and even then, just the fact that John had been a major part of her life, a part she was only now starting to remember, was a lot for her to handle.

Then there were all the other details of her life before Hydra that were coming back to her—her parents, her job, the places she lived and all the other tiny forgotten moments. He shivered when he thought back to how she was taken, snatched up in the night and gone without a trace.

She had good days and bad days, trying to wade through the data dump that the music had triggered. He worried about her, watching her lapse into long periods of silence, but Bucky knew he had to give her some space to process. It killed him to have her so close, yet he knew she wasn’t his—not yet, and maybe not ever.

In other areas of the Tower, life went on. Clint and Nat were on the hunt for Hydra bases, as well as the mysterious person who seemed to have taken over in Pierce’s absence. There were rumors of a small outpost in Romania, and Bucky felt they would be headed there to check it out before too long.

Maybe that was what he needed—a distraction. It was almost unbearable, living like this, so close to her yet with so many unanswered questions.

There was a knock on his door, and Bucky looked up from his reading.

“Hey Buck.” Steve plopped down on the chair across from him. Bucky didn’t say anything. Steve knew what was on his mind and he didn’t bother asking.

“Stark got a hit—he found out some info about Y/N, he wants us to meet with her.”

“Did he say what—”

“He didn’t, he’s being cryptic about it—typical Tony Stark..”

Bucky looked down and nodded. He carefully stuffed his nerves and emotions down as far as they could go, and when he looked back up his face was blank.

“Okay, let’s go.”

***

You were sparring in the gym with Nat. The two of you had gotten close, and you were glad to have a girlfriend, especially now.

Your mind was constantly in turmoil. You needed someone to talk to—someone other than Steve or Bucky. Nat had introduced you to the pleasures of Ben and Jerry’s and something she called “chick flicks,” and over the last few days you two had many long talks about men and feelings, and the craziness of your current situation.

Memories of John had come back to you the last few days. The thought of being able to see him again, after all these years…your heart leapt at the thought. You couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for him, returning home to find you vanished without a trace. And what of your parents? You knew they would have moved heaven and earth to find you.

Things had been difficult with Bucky. You still lived together in the same apartment; you were still healing and he remained a steadfast and loyal friend, watching out for you and helping you recover. The last few days had been filled with ups and downs as more pieces of the puzzle came together, and through it all he was supportive—in that sense, things hadn’t changed.

What _had_ changed was the relationship between the two of you, as unorthodox as it had been. You now slept in separate beds; like the initial decision to share it wasn’t something that had been discussed, it was something that had just happened.

There was a distance between you now, and it hurt. It was hurting you both, you could see it, but you didn’t know what else to do. You knew it was necessary until you found more answers—necessary for both you and Bucky. You felt guilty for having such strong feelings for him, especially as you remembered more and more about John, yet at the same time you missed him terribly. Whatever came of the search for your past, you knew you couldn’t let Bucky go—you still loved him too much.

You honestly didn’t know what you would do.

Your head yanked sideways with a blow to the jaw, and you glared at Nat.

“Don’t look at me, Y/N, you could’ve easily ducked that if your head wasn’t in the clouds.”

You grimaced and rubbed your jaw. She was right, it really was no contest between you two—you usually only went at her at fifty percent. Nat, of course, knew who you were thinking about.

“Talk to me, девушка.”

You sighed—she could read you like a book. “Just thinking about John and Bucky again—I’m like a broken record lately.”

“Have you _tried_ talking to him about this? You know he’s a good listener, you two used to be so close, you talked about everything—”

“I can’t, not about this. He’s closed off right now, more than I’ve ever seen him, and I know it’s because it’s hurting him. And I feel so guilty.”

Nat frowned. “About what?”

“I…I remember how much I loved John. I still feel that, even now, but…”

“But…” Nat drew out the word, urging you on.

“But I can’t just ignore the feelings I have for Bucky—or everything we’ve been through together. I can’t forget either of them, and it’s killing me. I don’t know what to do, how to act, what to hope for—”

“Then don’t hope for anything,” she said simply. “Just keep going and take each day as it’s given with the information you have until you find out more. You’re not the same person you were, Y/N. Bucky is important to you, just as John was, and that’s okay. You don’t have to decide anything right now—you’ll tear yourself to pieces agonizing over the possibilities. Tony _will_ find him, and once he does, _that’s_ when you decide what you want to do.”

Well, that sounded simple enough. Emotions were still difficult for you to handle, and it was wearing you out. You felt like you had been bouncing back and forth between blank emptiness and a state of near panic, trying to figure everything out.

Nat aimed lazy hit almost playfully at your midsection. “I get it—feelings suck. But you’ve gotten through so much bullshit already, you’ll get through this too.”

You huffed a smile at her, and she cocked her head at you, grinning back.

“I remember you, you know. From the Red Room—both you and Bucky. We called him Soldat, but we called you призрак—the ghost. Never would see you coming. I hated going up against you.”

You smirked dryly as she launched a kick at you. The Red Room was familiar to you. Not exactly fond memories, but you did remember one tough little girl with flaming red hair.

“You were a tough little воин…still are, too.”

Nat grinned as she blocked your hit. The two of you battled on until JARVIS’s voice interrupted.

_“Pardon me Miss Y/L/N, but Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the common room. It seems he has some information he would like to discuss with you.”_

Nat looked at you, her eyes wide. Tony had been trying to track down any information on you or your family, and this could be it. You had butterflies in your stomach. 

“What are you waiting for? Go see what he wants.” Nat sounded as nervous and excited as you were.

You didn’t bother to change your clothes, you just ripped the tape from your hands and tried to walk as calmly as possible up to the conference room, even though your heart was hammering away in your chest.

You opened the doors and saw Tony, Steve, and Bucky, already seated at the table. There was a seat open next to Bucky and you took it. A thin file folder was laying on the table, marked SHIELD—TOP SECRET, and just looking at it made you tremble in anticipation.

Bucky must have sensed your nerves, because he took your hand as you slid into the seat, and the comforting warmth of his presence calmed you. You knew he would be there for you, no matter what happened next.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Murder, Flashback of Torture, Blood/Violence, Panic Attack
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

“All right, I’ll cut to the chase,” Tony began. “Y/N, we were able to track down some more information.” He waved the file folder, grimacing at its thinness. “There’s not much here though, I’m afraid. I’m sorry there’s not more, but records back then apparently weren’t what they are now…”

He trailed off before reading from the file in front of him, labeled SHIELD: TOP SECRET.

“You were born on January 22, 1942 in Rockland, Maine. No copy of your birth certificate, but the date was listed on some VA paperwork that Sam found. Your parents moved down to Portland after the war, we got an address off of some old paperwork from when you applied for the teaching position at Wells High. We haven’t been able to dig up any more information about your parents’ background, it’s all gone. It looks like you got your teaching license from the University of Maine. _That_ little tidbit was found in an old alumni yearbook.”

He shuffled some papers. “Married to John Y/L/N on June 12th, 1967, where he was stationed at Fort Campbell; you taught at Hopkinsville High until you went missing on October 6th, 1968. Again, that was from some old VA paperwork.”

This seemed off to you—where were all the records?

“Nothing in the local papers about your disappearance, only a very brief missing person’s report, filed by the school after you didn’t show up for work for a week.”

Tony pulled a photograph from the file and slid it across the table. There it was, your little Ford Fairlane, hooked up to a tow truck and halfway out of what looked like a large pond.

“Your car was found several years later when they drained the local quarry. This was attached to the police report, but they never bothered following it up since there was no obvious sign of foul play.”

At each admission, your heart sank further. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but this wasn’t it.

“As for your husband, John…”

Tony paused and you went rigid, feeling Bucky’s hand tighten on yours slightly.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but he was KIA in Vietnam. He died on October 18th when his squad was ambushed by the Viet Cong in the Quang Nam Province. He’s buried in Arlington. Sam was able to get ahold of his file if you’d like to see it.”

You sat rigidly, unable to think or even breathe, Bucky’s hand around yours the only thing tethering you to reality at that moment.

“Wha-what about my parents?” You croaked. You were sure they had to be dead, if they were alive they’d be over a hundred. Even so, you had to know.

Tony shifted uncomfortably. “They died, house fire later that year. Apparently it was an old farmhouse, the fire department filed the cause as faulty wiring. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

No one said a word. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of them, not with the tears that were threatening to spill over.

Gone—all gone. There was no one waiting for you.

You truly were alone.

Steve frowned. “That’s really all you were able to find? There has to be more…”

“I know,” Tony agreed. “I’m not without resources, as you know, but I’m coming up against a wall here. JARVIS has scoured everything that’s been transferred to digital form, and we’ve even sent out some agents to track down the paper records and microfiche. The thing is, there just _isn’t_ any more. It’s all gone, like someone tried to erase her from existence.”

Steve shook his head. “Is that even possible?”

“It’s not only possible, but probable.” Bucky said quietly. He shifted in his seat and ran his thumb over your knuckles. You still hadn’t said a word.

“If Hydra wanted her for the program they would have made sure no one went looking for her. With me it was just a happy accident, and everyone already thought I was dead. But if they singled her out and took her there had to be a reason, and they didn’t want anyone to find out. Staging a murder would draw too much attention, so they just made her disappear. That meant destroying records and eliminating peripheral relationships. They didn’t want anyone to go looking for her.” Bucky fell silent, and you could see a muscle working in his jaw in anger.

He was right, you realized in horror. You had remembered several missions that had you destroying information, eliminating seemingly harmless people. Your stomach churned. They were horrible, bloody missions, and images flashed through your head unbidden.

“You…you mean her parents…” Steve was stunned.

“A house fire, later the same year? Doesn’t that seem a _bit_ suspicious to you?” Bucky’s voice was deadly soft.

“Oh my god.”

Tony tapped the table thoughtfully. “Why her though? No offense, but a music teacher from Maine? Of all the people they could’ve taken, what made her so special?”

The three men continued to debate, but you had long since stopped listening.

Your mind was a jumbled mess. Hydra singled you out and took you—they made you disappear in every sense of the word. John…killed in Vietnam, a casualty of war. Your parents, though…the house fire…they were dead because Hydra wanted _you_.

Struggling in vain to suppress the horrific images your mind was creating, you pulled your hand from Bucky’s and pressed it to your middle as you felt yourself start to lose control.

You could almost hear their screams.

“Y/N? Y/N, look at me.”

Bucky had pushed back from the table and was reaching for you while Tony and Steve looked on in concern. You flinched away and he let his hand drop, hurt flashing briefly across his features.

You were shaking, but it wasn’t from panic. It was anger. Anger and horror were coursing through you, reaching up and choking you until it seemed like the air had been sucked from the room. You didn’t want to be comforted. You didn’t want to see their looks of pity or concern--you wanted to _hurt_ someone. You wanted to take from them.

You had to get out of that room.

“I can’t…I’m…please excuse me,” you said with as much composure as you could muster before standing and striding from the room.

You didn’t stop, didn’t slow until you were up on the roof, nearly ripping the door off its hinges in your haste. Your legs gave out and you huddled in a ball against a roof vent, wrapping your arms over your head and clutching at your hair as the fires of rage burned out of control.

A darkness had risen inside of you. A darkness you thought was gone, because you were getting _better_. But it was never really gone, you knew that now. It was the Soldat, always looking over your shoulder, and she had been there inside you all along.

Waiting.

You screamed. You screamed until your throat was raw, faces flashing before you. Handlers. Guards. Doctors. The sneering manacled man whose voice you could still hear, grating in your ears as he taunted and praised you in the same breath. You wanted to kill them all, for what they took from you and what they took from Bucky.

What they took.

The flames of your anger died down and was replaced with a horrible emptiness, and you sobbed into your arms as the weight of the past few days came crashing down. You sobbed until you had nothing left and you leaned against the vent, utterly spent.

John.

Mom and Dad.

Your heart ached for them and their end, but how do you grieve for someone you’re just starting to remember?

Feeling your eyes droop and no closer to an answer, you let the exhaustion overcome you and you drifted off into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

***

“Bucky, let her go.”

“I can’t Steve, I have to know she’s okay—”

Bucky could see she was spiraling out of control. He watched the emotions flash across her face, and he wished he could stop the chaos in her mind…that he could take away her pain. Steve’s hand was on his shoulder, holding him back, and Bucky threw it off in frustration.

They didn’t understand—in this state she could hurt someone…or herself.

“She’s had quite a shock, you need to give her some space,” Steve said gently. “JARVIS can monitor her from up there, he’ll let you know if she’s in trouble, right Tony?”

Tony nodded. He looked shaken and unsettled.

“But—”

“Give her some time to process this, Buck.”

She had flinched away from him—he hadn’t missed that. She had a husband, a husband she just found out had died over 45 years ago. Parents that she just found out were murdered by Hydra.

Maybe she didn’t want his help—maybe all he was to her was a reminder of her time with Hydra. A reminder of all they’d taken from her, and the evil machine they’d turned her into.

He felt like his heart was breaking all over again.

“JARVIS, can you just…if she needs anything…if she…” The words caught in his throat.

_“I will, sir.”_

Bucky stood woodenly and gathered the files from the table, and he turned to leave.

“Buck—”

He halted. Steve put his arm around his shoulders and Bucky went rigid for a moment before curling into him, Steve’s body safe and familiar against his. Suddenly Bucky had been thrust back to his first few days at the Tower, so lost and hurt and alone. So confused. It really wasn’t too much different than he was feeling now.

Steve was right, of course. He couldn’t smother her. She needed time to sort out her feelings, but it was taking everything he had not to go to her now.

Steve led him up to his apartment, wordlessly pulling a second chair up to the side table and taking out a well-worn deck of cards. Bucky smiled. The cards were the same ones Steve had carried in the war, obtained from some museum somewhere.

Steve pulled out two glasses and a bottle of bourbon, pouring a liberal amount in each. They couldn’t get drunk anymore, thanks to the serum, but that didn’t mean they didn’t still like the taste.

“Just like old times, right?” Bucky smirked, although it held little humor.

Steve cut the cards and dealt them each a hand. “She’s gonna be okay, Buck, and so are you.” His words were blunt but his eyes were kind.

“I know.”

They played well on into the night. Bucky’s mind eased as they played and fell back into the old familiar rhythms of two childhood friends. It wasn’t until Bucky glanced at the clock that he realized how late it had gotten.

Steve caught his look and smiled knowingly. “JARVIS, is Y/N still on the roof?”

_“Yes, Captain Rogers. She appears to have fallen asleep and is sleeping quite soundly.”_

Bucky set down his cards and looked up at Steve. His intentions were clear, but he hesitated a moment.

“Thanks Steve. For…for everything.”

“Anytime, Buck.”

A few minutes later and he was up on the roof. Y/N had indeed fallen asleep up there, curled up in a ball against a roof vent. He bent down to brush the hair back from her face, frowning sadly. She had dark circles under her eyes and the edges were still rimmed with red from crying—she looked completely worn out.

This was the first time she had slept soundly in over a week, he knew, and it was probably more from exhaustion at this point. Bucky gathered her in his arms, not surprised when she didn’t even stir. He carried her downstairs to their apartment and tucked her into the bed, and when he bent to softly kiss her cheek he could taste the saltiness of her tears that lingered on his lips.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, so quiet it almost wasn’t said at all.

And maybe that’s all it would be, a whispered confession to the darkened room that she would never hear. He would give her all the time and space she needed, but he would never leave her.

Not when she held his heart in her hands.

Bucky reluctantly stood and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

***

**Hydra Base Siberia – 1968**

The Asset walked into the room where the girl was being prepped. She was visibly shaking, her head lolling weakly as a result of the repeated doses of serum that had been administered. Brought to the brink of death by the chemicals over a period of weeks, she had been unmade and reborn again as a magnificent killing machine.

Now all that remained was to wipe her very soul from existence.

“Soldat, mission report.”

His handler was speaking to him. The Asset held out the file folder obediently.

“Mission complete.”

The girl was being strapped to the chair now. He could smell her fear. The manacles closed over her arms as the machine rotated, and the girl’s chest heaved as they fitted her with the mouthguard.

Pupils dilated with fear, her eyes locked with his, and something shifted within him.

_No! No, no, no, not again! Oh god, please don’t do this, she’s so scared. It’s gonna hurt her. She hasn’t done anything wrong, please don’t!_

His handler was watching him, his eyes narrowed.

“Soldat.” His voice was stern. “Soldat, eyes on me.”

The Asset wanted to comply, but something held him back. This was wrong.

This was so wrong.

“Stop,” he whispered.

The technician flipped the switch, and the girl’s body convulsed as the electricity was passed through her brain and her screams ate into his.

Then his vision was obstructed as his handler stepped into view.

“Soldat, turn around.”

The Asset complied.

“He’s been out of cryofreeze too long, he’s starting to come back. He always does after a while.”

“Then take him away and wipe him.” Another voice was speaking now. “Up the voltage if you have to, this is getting tedious. I want him ready to train her starting tomorrow.”

“Are we going to have the same problems with her?”

“No. She is what we’ve been looking for, and she’s already exceeded our expectations. She will be everything he is not.”

The Asset was led into the adjacent room, dominated by the same steel and leather chair. The handler pointed to it, and the Asset sat. He could still hear her screams.

He frowned in confusion.

_The girl. Her eyes._

_Remember._

_Remember._

_Steve._

_Never stop fighting—never give up._

_Remember Steve._

_Your name is…your name is Bu--_

_Prisoner number 56989._

_The girl._

_Steve._

_I’m with you ‘til the end of the line._

Hands grasped his biceps, forcing him back into the chair. He fought them, and a baton cracked across his face, breaking his nose.

The Asset fell back and the manacles closed, and he choked on his own blood as the black rubber was forced into his mouth.

Something very small and afraid was flailing inside him now, struggling to get out. He heard the dreadful whir of the rotating machinery, and he shook uncontrollably as it fastened around his head.

He was afraid.

The last thing he saw was a stern face staring dispassionately down at him, the monocle gleaming sinisterly in the artificial light.

Then the world went white, and his skull split in two.

***

**Present Day**

Bucky gasped, throwing his arms wide as he came back to himself. He had just watched, completely helpless, as she had been wiped for the first time. She had stirred something within him even then, and he had paid the price for trying to fight back.

Bucky’s heart thudded in his chest, and his face felt wet with tears. It had felt so real. That horrible feeling of being trapped in his own body, forced to watch as it turned traitor to him. He hadn’t had a nightmare like that in a while.

It still felt like electricity was being passed through him. Bucky shivered, clutching the blanket around him and burying his face in the pillow. His head hurt so bad. He groaned softly and fought back a wave of nausea, trying to concentrate on his breathing instead of the urge to throw up.

“Bucky?”

Warm hands on his face. He stilled instantly, recognizing her smell…her touch. She felt like an angel. The bed dipped and he felt Y/N sit next to him, leaning down and running a hand across his fevered brow.

“Y/N.” His voice sounded small and needy to his ears, and he cringed inwardly at his own weakness.

“Shh…shh. It’s okay, I’m right here with you.”

She climbed into bed with him and Bucky edged towards her, seeking her warmth. She knew exactly what he needed. He curled towards her and she rested his head against her chest so he could hear her heartbeat.

Bucky sighed, feeling his body start to relax as he breathed in her familiar scent, his head pillowed against her breasts. Long, delicate fingers ran soothingly through his hair and he melted into her touch as he listened to the strong, steady rhythm beneath his ear.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

Her arms tightened around him, and he felt her breathing stutter for a moment. “I missed you too, Bucky. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m…I’m sorry I pushed you away. I just…I couldn’t—”

Bucky raised his head so he could see her eyes. They were still red and puffy from crying, and there were fresh tears on her cheeks. He wanted to kiss each one away.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, sweetheart. I understand. I…I think we both needed a bit of space.”

“I know, it’s just that it all happened so quickly, and then remembering…remembering J-John…”

Bucky reached over and wiped away the fresh tears, softly hushing her. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Y/N. I get it, I really do. I was never going to leave you until you told me to go. I…I couldn’t do that to you.”

She looked up at him, and the fear and uncertainty he saw there broke his heart. “I’m so scared, Bucky. When I…in that room today, when they told me what happened, I felt…it felt like I was the Soldat again. I wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to _kill_.”

The last part was barely whispered. Bucky’s face fell, because he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“It’s never really gone, is it?” she asked quietly.

“No.” He swallowed thickly. “It’s always there, and sometimes you have to fight to push it back down, but the important part is you did, Y/N. You didn’t let it win.”

Now it was his turn to take her in his arms, and he felt a bloom of warmth take hold, feeling her there once again.

“Bucky?”

He hummed and pulled away slightly, rubbing his fingers down her shoulder.

“I miss you, and I need you. I’m not sure how I feel about everything yet, but…but I’d like to go back to how things were, before.”

Bucky felt like the sun had come out again, and he smiled.

“I’d like that very much, Y/N.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Torture, Blood and Graphic Violence **This chapter contains a graphic torture sequence that might be disturbing to some, if you think this will bother you, skip the Hydra Research Base Sokovia part**
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**Avengers Tower - One week later**

Melancholy notes drifted across the deserted room as you sat at the piano, completely lost in the music. Lost, that is, except for the comforting presence of the super soldier lying on the floor next to the piano bench.

He looked so peaceful, long dark eyelashes resting against his prominent cheekbones, every muscle at rest. His chest rose and fell with slow, even breathing, and there was the hint of a smile on his lips. One hand rested against his stomach and the other was flung out next to him almost carelessly. Bucky said the hard floor felt good on his back; after a long talk yesterday he finally admitted that his metal arm hurt occasionally and was putting a strain on his back, and he had _finally_ agreed to let Dr. Cho take a more in-depth look at it.

Playing piano was your catharsis. Having to concentrate partially on the physical aspects of playing made it easier to examine your own feelings without getting lost in your own head. You’d been playing a lot, lately, and although you didn’t feel much closer to feeling closure about the deaths of John and your parents, it was okay. You were still grieving in your own way.

Bucky loved listening to you play. Right now you were playing Scott Joplin’s “Solitude,” your mother’s favorite and one of the first songs you learned to play. The song ended, and the final notes echoed across the empty space. Bucky spoke and you almost jumped—he had looked so peaceful lying there you thought he had fallen asleep. His eyes were open though, and he looked at you with such blatant love that you nearly dissolved into a puddle right there on the floor.

“Can you play the sad song? The one you played the day Tony took you up here?”

You smiled. You knew what song he was talking about and it was fitting, because you had been thinking of Bucky when you played it that day. It was sad and beautiful, like him, gentle and kind with a deep longing that tugged at your heartstrings.

Your fingers hovered over the keys for a moment, and as you played the first few halting notes Bucky closed his eyes and hummed contently. You played on, so lost in the music you didn’t even notice him get up until he sat next to you onto the piano bench. He slid his arm around your waist and you felt his lips touch feather-light to the soft spot behind your ear, and your fingers fumbled slightly as your heart leapt in your throat. It was astounding how he could unravel you with a single kiss.

“I love this song. What’s it called?”

“It’s by Claude Debussy— ‘Clair de Lune.’ It means ‘moonlight.’ It’s based on a French poem about a man sitting on a hill in the moonlight, searching his soul and trying to find himself. It…it reminds me of you. The melancholy beauty, and the peaceful hope at the end…it’s like waking up from a dream.”

Bucky exhaled softly and his lips twitched into a smile, and you could see he was holding back tears as he tenderly kissed behind your ear again. You smiled at him and turned your head, seeking his soft lips against yours, and he cupped your face with both hands as he drew you closer.

All too soon, he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I have to go, tomorrow,” he said, fingering a lock of your hair.

“I know,” you said sadly. “Steve told me.”

Bucky huffed. “That punk’s got the biggest mouth in this whole Tower, I swear—”

You smirked, hearing his mock indignation. Steve hadn’t meant anything by it, you both knew, he just wanted to give you time to prepare. It was a small mission--Steve, Bucky, Nat, and Sam were going to check out the location of one of the smaller Hydra outposts they had found.

You weren’t ready for missions, not yet. Dr. Cho and Tony hadn’t cleared you for missions yet and you agreed with them, as much as it pained you. You still didn’t feel in control of yourself, and you knew that right now you would only be a liability…a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

Still, the thought of Bucky leaving was killing you. Not quite sending you into a panic like it would have a month ago when you had clung to him like a lifeline, but you were worried about him all the same. You buried your face in his neck, cutting off his rant about Steve.

“Promise me…promise me you’ll be careful Bucky, I don’t know what I’d do if…” your voice broke. “Please come back to me.”

“I will, sweetheart. As long as there’s a breath left in my body, I will always come back to you.”

***

Less than twenty-four hours later, you were standing on the flight deck of the Tower with Bruce, watching the Quinjet take off and feeling like your heart was leaving with it.

You, Tony, and Bruce were going to be the only ones left at the Tower for the next few days. Tony had a series of meetings keeping him busy, and you had agreed to help Bruce down in the lab. You weren’t sure what you’d be helping him with, since his specialty was gamma radiation and far above your knowledge base, but you were grateful for the distraction all the same.

For the time being you had moved back down to the secure apartment in the basement, just in case. Tony had suggested it, and although Bucky had initially argued with him it was ultimately your decision, and you had agreed. You didn’t want to hurt anyone, and with Steve and Bucky gone there weren’t many who could handle you if you had another episode.

The days passed quickly, and you were down in the lab with Bruce when Bucky called you.

“Hey, Y//N! Got a call coming in from the Quinjet, it’s Bucky. He wants to talk to you.”

Bruce must have caught your look, because he chuckled. “He’s fine Y/N, they’re all fine. He’s got some information he wanted to pass on to you.”

He handed you the cell phone, and you looked at it hesitantly. Bruce made a sign like holding a phone to his hear and nodded as you mimicked him.

“H-Hello?”

“Hey sweetheart, how’re you doing?” He sounded tired, but you smiled hearing his voice.

“I’m good, Bruce is keeping me busy down in the lab. How’re _you_? Are you all right? Did everything go okay?”

Bucky hesitated a fraction of a second before responding. “Yeah, we’re all fine, everything went fine. Listen, Y/N, we got some intel about the new head of Hydra. A guy named Wolfgang von Strucker. He seems a little familiar to me, but the name didn’t ring any bells. I wanted to pass the info along to you, see if you recognized him.”

“The name doesn’t sound familiar to me, either.”

“I didn’t think it would, but I’m sending over some pictures of a possible Hydra Base to Bruce right now, Nat wants to know if you’ve been there or seen this guy. Tell Bruce to check the secure server, he should be getting them now.”

Bruce was tapping away on a computer and you watched over his shoulder, amazed at the technology. He nodded and swiped his fingers up, and a series of pictures lit up the overhead screen.

Your blood ran cold.

The man with the monocle stared down at you, his haughty stoicism penetrating straight to your heart. You recognized him, all right.

“Y/N? Did you get them?”

You took a deep breath. “Is…is that Strucker?”

“Do you recognize him?”

“Yes. He’s…he’s the man that made me. We’ve…Bucky, we’ve both seen him, he kept us both, in Siberia. Look at the monocle.”

There was a pause on the line, and you heard Bucky softly curse. “Yeah, that’s Strucker. He’s…he’s not the new head of Hydra, he always was. Pierce was just a pawn, a liaison to SHIELD. It’s always been Strucker.”

You looked over at the other photos, and your jaw clenched.

“Bucky, those other photographs…I know that place. I’ve been there.”

“I thought you would. It’s a Research Base, somewhere in Southeastern Europe, we think it’s near Sokovia. I remember being there for a bit, but it’s kind of hazy. We’re going to head over there, see if we can find it. We should be home tomorrow.”

You smiled at the thought. “I miss you, Bucky, please be careful.”

“I miss you too. I can’t wait to see you, it feels like I’ve been gone for a month.”

You wanted to say more. You wanted to tell him you loved him, and that you never wanted him to leave again. But Bruce was standing right there, and Bucky sounded very tired—now wasn’t the time.

“I’ve gotta go, sweetheart, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You reluctantly said goodbye and the call ended. Handing the phone back to Bruce, you looked up at the face of the man who had taken everything away from you.

“Y/N? Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’m okay Bruce. I think I’m going to go to bed early tonight, I have a bit of a headache,” you said as you rubbed your temples. There was a throbbing pain building slowly, and you had a feeling it was going to be a rager of a headache.

“All right, well…let me know if you need anything. I’ll probably be up all night processing these cultures.”

***

**Hydra Research Base Sokovia – Four Years Ago**

Baron von Strucker was not a patient man.

He commanded obedience from those around him and expected orders to be carried out swiftly and correctly—the first time.

So when he was told that the mission was a failure, that the Assets had _failed_ , it really set his teeth on edge.

Strucker strode into the room, his glare passing over the Assets standing in the center of the room and landing on the Handler. He was beaten and bloody, barely able to stand on his own. Strucker already knew what had happened—he’d seen the tapes—but he wanted to hear it from the man’s own mouth, the incompetent fool.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“E-Everything was going smoothly, Herr Strucker, but a few civilians accidently ran into the kill zone. One…one of them was a small child, a little girl. The female Asset violated protocol and went to extract the child, and th-the other one broke from the group to provide cover for her. They—”

“You couldn’t control them?”

“N-No, Herr Strucker, they disobeyed all commands until the child was safe, but by then the target had escaped. They…they resumed obedience after that though, it was very strange.”

Strucker hummed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Strange indeed. Strange that you were completely unable to do your job, and now we have this mess to clean up.”

He strode over to the Assets, observing them thoughtfully for a moment before flicking his hand towards the Handler dismissively. Two guards seized the man and began to drag him from the room.

“I’m sorry, your services are no longer required, comrade.”

At a word from Strucker, six guards in full riot gear edged around the Assets. He stood safely back behind the ring of guards, his displeasure growing as he upon their blank faces.

_Nothing more than two malfunctioning weapons. I should have seen this coming…_

_I should have done something about this a long time ago._

He walked up to the male Asset, looking into his cold blue eyes. “You have failed, Soldat. The mission is a failure, and you will be punished for it.”

He nodded, and one of the guards unsheathed his baton and hit him full force in the kidneys, driving him to his knees with a grunt. The Asset shakily but obediently stood back up, his long chestnut hair hanging in his face and his gaze fixed forward.

Next he walked up to the woman, his pride and joy… _his_ creation.

How disappointing.

“ _You_ have failed, Soldat. You disobeyed your Handler, and you will be punished for it.”

Another nod and a second guard hit the female across the ribs, and Strucker head the satisfying crack of broken bones. She stumbled back into the guard, and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her forward.

“The Asset will obey the Handler in all things.”

Crack.

“The Asset does not think.”

A grunt of pain.

“The Asset does not want.”

The patter of blood hitting concrete.

“The Asset _will_ comply.”

A third hit sent the male to his knees again, and Strucker saw something flash across the female’s eyes. She moved to help him, but was stopped as the guard swung the baton across her face with full force. Blood erupted from a gash across her cheekbone, and she fell to her knees beside the male.

She raised her head, and in her dead eyes Strucker saw clear, unbridled rage.

The guard lifted his baton to strike her again, and it all happened so very quickly after that.

The baton swung down and the male Asset’s metal arm shot out, grabbing the guard’s wrist and breaking his arm in two places. He snatched the man up by the uniform and had thrown him across the room before the baton even hit the ground.

The female was on her feet as well, delivering a debilitating blow to another guard’s throat before he could hit the male again. The man clawed frantically at his throat, gasping for air as the remaining four guards powered up their stun batons.

Strucker and List retreated behind the cell door as it closed, and Strucker watched in awe as the two Assets stood, back to back, ready to unleash hell upon their attackers.

They were magnificent.

Too bad their aggression was aimed at the wrong people.

Strucker opened the rear door to the cell and more guards poured in, and he watched with detached interest as the Assets were taken down. They put up a good fight—they killed at least three more guards in the process before they were finally overwhelmed.

Such a pity.

Strucker sighed and moved out into the hallway, Dr. List following nervously behind.

“Well, List? I thought you said the last time that this wouldn’t become a problem,” he said, removing his monocle and massaging the bridge of his nose tiredly. “ _This_ looks like a problem to me.”

“They’re…they’re still remembering each other.”

“That much is obvious, but before you told me it was merely sexual in nature—an ‘involuntary urge, like two animals recognizing a mate’…I believe _those_ were your exact words.” He paused as the sounds of the Assets’ screams echoed throughout the hall. “This is a bit more than that, I think.”

The doctor shifted uneasily. “I-I’m not sure why this is happening now, Herr Strucker.”

“How many times has this happened?”

“I’m, um…a few dozen…that we know about.”

“That you know about,” Strucker repeated quietly.

He was silent for a long moment, thinking. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The male, yes—he had broken through time and again, usually asking for a ‘Steve.’ He was Arnim Zola’s creature, a flawed serum in a flawed individual. 

The girl, though, she had the genetics, she had the superior serum. She was supposed to be better.

“This is unacceptable, List. I want them punished and completely reconditioned—what’s the maximum voltage you’ve given them so far?”

List told him, and he pursed his lips.

“Double it.”

“B-But Herr Strucker, a voltage that high…that could kill them…”

“If it kills them, we’ll start over. They’re no good to me like this. We need to get this right before we proceed with the next stage of the program. Alexander Pierce is sniffing around, he wants an Asset of his own in exchange for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s cooperation. He _cannot_ know of this.”

“But—"

Strucker whirled on the doctor, tiring of his sniveling hesitancy. “Just do it, List, this cannot be allowed to happen again. _Burn_ them from each other’s minds.”

***

Your head lolled as you hung limply from the shackles, naked from the waist up and your chest pressed against the cold stone wall. Your back was on fire, and you could feel blood trickling down your side.

A dense fog of pain had settled over you as you hung there, listening to the quiet drip of your own blood hitting the floor. The shackles were made of vibranium, but that was overkill at this point—you were too weak to even fight back.

You had disobeyed.

You had been punished.

In the adjacent room, you could still hear the Asset’s screams as he was punished as well. Your heart lurched hearing that sound, something deep inside you urging to fight for him, to protect him.

You didn’t know his name, you didn’t even know _your_ name, but you knew him.

_You knew him._

The door opened behind you—the guards were back. They roughly took you down from the shackles and pulled the top of your uniform back up and fastened it, unmindful of the open wounds across your back, your flesh nearly stripped to the bone.

It would heal soon enough.

You hung limply, suspended between their shoulders as they half-carried, half-dragged you down the hall.

Passing a doorway, you could see the Asset lying unmoving on the cold floor. He was almost unrecognizable, his face a mask of blood. You wanted to go to him, to make sure he was alive, but you didn’t have the strength to do more that roll your eyes in his direction.

What was wrong with you?

This wasn’t right. You were supposed to obey, and that was why you were being punished. You weren’t supposed to want.

You weren’t supposed to care.

But you did.

The guards dragged you around the corner, and there it was. The chair. You didn’t quite remember it, you just knew you should be afraid. The guard sat you down and the restraints locked your arms and legs in place, and you didn’t even resist.

There wasn’t any point.

The technician dialed the voltage up to its maximum setting and the chair whirred and sparked as the halo was lowered around your head. They watched with morbid curiosity as the technician flipped the switch, but you never saw it.

You were already gone, over the rainbow and down into the depths of hell as your body jerked in the chair and screams were torn from your throat.

It didn’t matter, they told themselves, you wouldn’t remember it. When they were done, when you awoke, you would be completely reset.

The perfect Soldat once more.

***

**Present Day**

In the secure suite deep in the belly of the Tower, the girl began to convulse in her sleep. The scream was choked from her lips as she went rigid in a full-body seizure, her past memories of torture flowing through her mind and becoming real once more.

Several floors above her, Dr. Banner worked quietly in the lab; he was indeed pulling and all-nighter, wanting to finish up his latest experiment. Bruce had asked to be alerted if Y/N had any difficulties during the night, and he didn’t hesitate when JARVIS alerted him to her distress.

Dr. Cho was off-site, and Tony was all the way up in the penthouse suite with Pepper. Bruce didn’t want to bother them yet; he could handle this.

He reached to basement quickly, punching in the access code to the suite. Entering the bedroom, he found her lying on the bed, still seizing. Bruce knew better than to touch her when she was like this, so he just pulled the covers back so she wouldn’t get tangled and hurt herself. It was over quickly, and for a while she just lay there, breathing heavily.

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?”

He called out to her a few more times and finally her eyes opened. They looked glazed and distant, focused on nothing at all.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Can you talk to me?”

He tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her. Slowly her eyes raised and met his, and he felt a chill run down his spine. They were as cold and dark as onyx, completely devoid of any life or coherent thought.

Bruce began to get a little scared.

“J-JARVIS, call Tony, I think something’s wrong with—”

Wham!

The air was pushed from Bruce’s lungs, cutting him off mid-sentence as he hit the bedroom wall. He slid to the floor, and Bruce felt his old familiar friend growl deep within him.

_No…please, Hulk…not now. You’ll kill her._

Bruce opened his eyes and saw the girl looking down at him. “P-please,” he grunted, breathing heavily. “Y/N, snap out of it…you have to stay away from me.”

He scrambled to his feet as he saw her approach. Her face was expressionless, and she looked down on him with a cold indifference that showed no recognition whatsoever. Y/N was relapsing, he realized, and in that moment, she wasn’t herself anymore—she was the Asset.

She looked like she was going to walk right past him, and Bruce saw with horror that he had left the door to the suite open.

“Y/N, stop!”

He grabbed her arm, trying to hold her back, and he realized his mistake as soon as he made it. She whirled and hit him hard across the face, knocking him back against the doorframe. Stars exploded behind his eyes as his head slammed into the wall. Bruce sank to the floor, and began to turn green.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Blood/Gore, Violence, Panic Attack, Depression and a brief mention of suicidal idealization, anxiety, smut.
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

“Y/N, stop!”

**Avenger’s Quinjet – Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean**

Steve felt a buzzing in his breast pocket and pulled out his cellphone in surprise. Tony was calling him—calling his personal cellphone instead of the Quinjet’s secure line. The cell was encrypted of course, it _was_ Stark technology after all, but it was still strange.

He swiped up and held it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Rogers—you alone? Is Barnes there with you?”

Steve looked over at Bucky, stretched out across a row of seats with an arm flung over his eyes. He was envious of the brunette’s uncanny ability to fall asleep almost anywhere; Steve had never been blessed with that particular talent. It had been a dirty, brutal mission and they were all tired.

“He’s next to me, but he’s asleep. What’s going on?”

“We have a bit of a situation here.” Something in Tony’s voice set off warning bells in his head, and Steve got up and moved to the back of the jet, lowering his voice.

“I’m alone Tony, talk.”

“It’s Y/N—she had another seizure last night.”

Steve’s blood ran cold, and he looked over at Bucky.

Tony continued. “Banner went down to check on her, Dr. Cho was off-site. Y/N, she…she wasn’t herself when she woke up. Remember that time Barnes relapsed in his sleep?”

“Yes, I remember it.” He still carried the scars from that one.

“Yeah. It was like that—like she was the Soldier again. Banner accidently left the door to the suite open and he tried to stop her from leaving, and she hit him—pretty hard. He went green and they fought—”

Steve cut him off. “Is she alive?”

His face felt numb. Y/N was like a little sister to him, but Bucky—if anything happened to her it would destroy him.

“Yes. She’s in one of the holding cells and Hulk is down in the suite, sleeping it off. Banner must have known what was about to happen, because he had JARVIS get ahold of me. I was able to get her outta there before it got too bad—she is incredibly strong, by the way. Almost ruined my best suit.”

Steve ignored the flippant remark, although it calmed him somewhat. Tony wouldn’t be acting that way if it were that bad. He looked over at Bucky, still sound asleep.

“Are either of them hurt?” he asked quietly.

“Banner doesn’t have a scratch on him. Hulk raged for a while and then fell asleep, he’s still out but back to himself now at least.”

Tony paused. “Y/N…we’re not sure. She’s still activated, and she’s pretty lively down there. Tried breaking out a couple times, but that’s twelve-inch reinforced plexiglass and she’s not getting through that easily.”

“What do you mean, you’re not sure if she’s hurt?”

“She’s still activated, Rogers,” Tony repeated. “I’m not sending anyone in there with her, not like that. JARVIS is monitoring her, he says her vitals are stable, but there’s a lot of blood and she’s favoring her right side.”

“No, it’s okay Tony, you did the right thing. Thank you for getting her out.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know what caused it?”

“No. I haven’t been around either Banner or Y/N all day. I’ve got the footage from JARVIS of the incident, I’ll send it to you…see if you can make heads or tails of it.” Tony paused for a moment before continuing. “Sorry to dump this on you like this Rogers, but I just thought Barnes would take it better coming from you instead of me.”

Considering the fact that the woman he loved was beaten bloody and locked in a holding cell, Steve tended to agree with him. He thanked Tony again and hung up the call, seeing the flashing indicator that the footage had already been received.

Steve fumbled with the phone for a minute, trying to remember how to play the video clip. Sam had shown him numerous times, always with immeasurable patience, but Steve still had difficulties.

Finally he got the video playing, then almost dropped the phone when he realized he forgot to turn the volume down. Nervously, he glanced over at Bucky, but the super soldier merely shifted his position and slept on.

Steve had already decided he wasn’t going to tell Bucky until they landed. They still had about four hours of flight time until they reached the Tower, and he didn’t want Bucky worrying himself sick until then.

The video was hard to watch. Y/N attacking Bruce was painful enough, but once he turned into the Hulk and they really started fighting, he had to pause it.

“What’s that?”

This time, Steve did drop the phone. Bucky was standing right behind him—he was absolutely silent when he wanted to be.

“Nothing Buck, just some surveillance footage from another mission.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Bucky snatched the phone off the deck before Steve could get it, and he frowned at the screen. “What…That’s the secure suite, that…that’s Y/N…”

Bucky glanced over at him in alarm before rewinding the footage, and Steve watched the color drain from his friend’s face as he watched the video play out.

Y/N was fast, but even as the Asset she knew better than to try fighting Hulk outright. That didn’t mean Hulk was going to easy on her, though. By the time Tony entered the suite wearing the Iron Man suit, there were red smears on the walls and floor and she was starting to slow down.

Still, she fought the metal arms that grabbed her and tried to haul her to safety, away from the raging green monster. Tony finally ended up just shooting her with a repulsor before flying in and scooping up the stunned woman.

“Turn it off, I can’t—” Bucky said hoarsely. His face was carefully blank, but he couldn’t hide the anguish in his eyes. “Is…is she—”

“She’s alive, Buck,” Steve said quickly. “Tony got her out, she’s down in one of the holding cells.”

Bucky closed his eyes as if saying a silent prayer of thanks. His jaw worked, and his eyes were cold when he opened them again.

“A holding cell. They just…threw her in there like some kind of animal? Did anyone even check on her?” Bucky was starting to get angry now. “That was a lot of blood, and it wasn’t Banner’s. She—she could be hurt, she’s probably so scared—”

“Buck—”

“Steve, did anyone check on her? That was the Hulk—she could have broken something…internal injuries…she could be bleeding out down there and nobody—”

“Bucky. _Calm down_.”

He was starting to spiral out of control in panic and worry, and Steve understood his helpless feeling. Steve put his hands on his shoulders to calm him, and Bucky stared up at him, looking lost.

“Y/N is alive, Bucky. JARVIS is monitoring her and he says she’s stable. But she’s still activated, and it’s too risky to send anyone in there. You know this.”

Bucky’s knees gave out, and sat down heavily. Steve sat next to him, unsure of how to comfort him; he was scared and worried too, but he knew it was nothing next to what Bucky must be feeling. Bucky sucked in a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, his mind going a million directions at once.

“How long ‘til we’re home? Do we…do we know how long ago it happened? What triggered it?”

“We’ve got about four hours to go. Tony didn’t say when, he just said she had a seizure last night that sparked this whole thing. Y/N was with Bruce all day and he could probably tell us more about her state of mind, but he’s sleeping it off right now.”

Bucky was silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with regret.

“This is my fault. I shouldn’t have sent her the photos of Strucker and the Sokovia facility, I know that’s what did it. I should’ve waited until we got back…waited until I could be there with her. This is…this is all my fault. She could’ve killed Bruce…”

“Bucky, this is not on you. It was an accident.”

“She fought the fucking Hulk, Steve! He could’ve killed her—he almost did, by the looks of that footage. I just…I’m such an idiot.”

Steve wrapped an arm around his friend, and Bucky leaned into him. The anger, fear, and self-loathing was palpable; he could tell Bucky was barely keeping it together.

One little slip-up, and Y/N could have died.

Or Bucky—this could have easily been him. Steve knew that Bucky was doing much better, but he also knew there were still memories rattling around, waiting to drop like bombshells and wreak their havoc.

Steve had taken care of Bucky pretty much on his own when he first got to the Tower. With Y/N, the whole Tower had gotten involved, and it still wasn’t enough—for either of them. He sighed and scrubbed a tired hand down his face.

“We can’t keep going like this, Buck. We’ve had too many close calls.”

“I know.” Bucky stared at the floor. “Tony was right. We’ve got nothing under control, we’re just fooling ourselves. The last time it was me, and I put us both in the hospital. I almost killed you—again. And now her and Bruce…”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky—neither of you. You _both_ have been through hell and back, and you’re still hurting. You can’t do this by yourselves, and we’re just not equipped to help you properly. Not yet. We have to do better, because I don’t want to lose any more of my friends.”

Bucky just nodded. He leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder, and they sat together in silence as the Quinjet flew on towards home.

***

Bucky felt sick.

One of the side effects of being a super soldier was that you started to feel just a bit invincible after a while. The people Bucky cared about most—Steve and Y/N—they were super soldiers as well. There was nothing that could keep them down. They would shake off hit after hit, keep getting up, walk it off…but that being said, all three knew what their limits were.

They knew when to stop.

He had never seen another Asset in action when he was lucid. It was all memories for him. Steve had seen it—he had seen Bucky relapse twice since coming to the Tower.

Twice where Steve looked into the eyes of his best friend and saw nothing but darkness, twice where he felt that fear, knowing Bucky wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead.

Because the Asset doesn’t have limits.

Bucky had never viewed Y/N as fragile. Not once. She was hurting and emotionally compromised at times, but never fragile—she was the strongest person he had ever met. But watching the Hulk throw her around like a rag doll, seeing her blood splatter on the walls as she took the hits and kept on getting up, knowing that she wouldn’t stop, not until she was dead…that had nearly killed him to watch.

For the first time in a long while, he found himself afraid.

Afraid of losing her…of losing himself.

Bucky didn’t have a death wish. Yes, maybe there were times, especially in the beginning, where he had thought about just ending it all—the pain, both mental and physical, the horrible memories, the long road to recovery ahead of him…if you could even call it that. Bucky hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Steve he was the only thing that had kept him from taking his own life. He knew how much it would hurt Steve, and he just couldn’t do that to him.

That didn’t mean he cared if he died on a mission, or if he just didn’t wake up one morning. A fatal seizure…an aneurysm in the middle of the night…his brain just exploding, one too many trips through the blender. It was a lazy sort of suicide, but as long as he didn’t hurt anyone or take anyone with him, he hadn’t really cared.

He did now, though—Steve may have given him a reason not to die, but Y/N gave him a reason to live.

For the first time since before the war, Bucky was starting to plan and to dream—of a life with Y/N. Hoping that she wanted it too.

He found himself wondering what it would be like to wake up to her every morning, to have a family with her, to grow old with her. To take her on a real date, make breakfast together in their own kitchen, visit places they’ve never been, stay up too late talking and laughing about nothing—all those little experiences nobody seems to think about until they’re taken away.

He was terrified of losing her.

Bucky barely waited for the Quinjet’s engines to wind down before he was down the ramp, heading for the elevators with a purposeful stride. His face was a carefully schooled mask, betraying none of the emotions raging just below the surface. The elevator doors opened onto the detention level, and he didn’t have to look far for Tony—he was waiting right there for him.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked curtly.

“Bucky, I didn’t have a choice. She was still acting crazy, and there was no where else to put her—”

“I’m not angry with you, Tony. You…you saved her life.” Bucky clenched his jaw. “I just…I need to see her, please.”

Tony nodded. He could see the anguish and heartfelt gratitude in Bucky’s eyes.

“This way.”

He led Bucky around the corner, and Bucky halted as soon as he saw her.

It was one of the smaller cells, completely constructed of plexiglass and offering an unobstructed view of the inhabitant. Unobstructed, that is, except for the smears of blood where she had tried breaking through the glass.

Y/N was huddled in the corner, motionless. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and her head was resting against the glass, her gaze a thousand miles away. Bucky’s stomach clenched at the sight of the dried blood on her face and neck, trailing down her chest and onto her hands. It was all over the floor around her, but it seemed mostly dry—her enhanced healing must have taken care of the worst of it. He hoped.

“How long has she been like that?” Bucky whispered.

“A couple hours,” Tony said. “She tried to escape a few times, we were afraid she was going to hurt herself, but she just…stopped. Just sat right down and hasn’t moved since.”

“Open the door. Let me in there with her.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. We can’t be sure if she’s—”

“I don’t care. Lock me in there with her, I just—” his voice broke. “I can’t just stand here and…just please open the door, Tony.”

His voice was broken and pleading, and Tony stared at him for a long moment before nodding and walking over to the keypad. The cell unlocked and Bucky hesitated as he opened the door, glancing back at him.

“Thank you, Tony.”

Bucky shut the door behind him and heard the lock engage. Y/N didn’t so much as blink; as far as he could tell she was completely unaware of his presence.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

He knelt down next to her and his heart broke seeing the blank look on her face. Blank with a hint of confusion, he realized—she was lost in her own head and far out of his reach.

Bucky started to talk to her, inching nearer until he was close enough to touch her. He smoothed back her hair, wincing at the cuts and bruises on her face and neck. Her lip was split, and there was blood at the corner of her mouth that he gently wiped away.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s Bucky.” He tilted her face up, but she just stared right though him. “You know me, please…come back to me.”

They sat there for a long time, Bucky speaking softly to her, pleading with her, gently caressing her face and trying to be mindful of her injuries. He gently checked her over, feeling for broken bones or signs of internal bleeding. He could feel the grating of broken ribs and there was a rash of bruises all down her left side, a long gash on her leg that had all but stopped bleeding and was beginning to knit together already. Her pulse was slow and steady and she breathed evenly, so he would have to content himself with that for now.

Bucky’s episodes had always ended with him unconscious, waking up hours or even days later in the hospital, already back to himself. He didn’t know how long she would stay like this, or what he could do to help her. He felt his eyes start to burn.

What if he couldn’t bring her back?

Blinking back the tears, Bucky unfastened his vest and took her hand and slid it underneath his jacket against his skin, directly over his heart. He held it there, willing his panicked heart’s erratic rhythm to slow and be strong—for her.

“Please Y/N,” he whispered. “Come back to me. Remember this…remember me.”

***

A high-pitched whine, competing with the static like an out-of-tune radio. Distorted voices and images.

_“Y/N, time for dinner!”_

_The smell of chicken cooking in the oven. Dad’s cherry cigar smoldering in an ashtray. Laughter._

_“Uh oh, she’s really irritated at me this time. Quick, Y/N—play the song your mother likes.”_

_“Knock, knock…am I disturbing the maestro?”_

_“Ooh, good song—Y/N, come dance with me.”_

_Rich brown eyes and an unruly cowlick, strong arms tight around your waist. The cool, crisp fabric of his uniform, the scent of his cologne._

_“Knowing you’re waiting here for me is all that I need. I’ll come home to you, I promise.”_

_“I’m sorry Y/N, but John was KIA in Vietnam. He died on October 18 th.”_

_“Do you play piano? Why don’t you have a seat, see if it stirs up anything.”_

_Slick, cool ivory beneath your fingers, silver notes vibrating through the air._

_“Bucky is a great guy…he’s my best friend, and one of the kindest, strongest people I’ve ever known. He’s going to help you get better…”_

_“I remember you, from the Red Room…we called you призрак—the ghost.”_

_“You have failed, Soldat. You disobeyed your Handler, and you will be punished for it.”_

_“There is no where you can run. No where you can hide, where the fist of Hydra cannot find you. And when we do, we will take everything from you.”_

_“The Asset does not want. The Asset will comply.”_

_A whiff of ozone, the taste of rubber and copper in your mouth._

_“Soldat--mission report.”_

_“My name is James…James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.”_

_“You’re just lost, but we’ve found each other now. It’s going to be okay. I was lost once too…”_

_“It’s you. It’s always been you. Over and over again, no matter how many times they tried to take you away, I always found you.”_

_“This feels real.”_

Bucky. The Asset. The warmth of his arms surrounding you, both then and now, taking away your pain and keeping you safe. You had both been unmade and built into terrible killing machines—but you were still human inside.

Thump, thump, thump.

Bucky’s heart. You could feel it, alive and real and moving beneath your hand.

Thump, thump, thump.

Warmth against your fingertips, radiating up your arm. His scent, his voice, his soft breathing—here with you. Now. He never left you…you always found each other in the end.

“Please Y/N, come back to me. Remember this…remember me.”

Thump, thump, thump.

You exhaled sharply, and metal fingers shifted on yours, pressing your hand tighter against soft skin. Your vision cleared, and you saw two stormy blue eyes staring back at you.

They were your entire world.

You licked your chapped lips, tasting the salt of your blood and tears. Your throat was dry, and it took you a couple tries to get the word out.

“B-Bucky?”

The blue eyes widened and blinked rapidly before two hands reached up to cup your face. You didn’t flinch away; instead, you melted into their touch. They felt like coming home.

“Y/N? Y/N are you here with me?”

It felt like surfacing from a deep pool after a dive that you had stayed under too long for. You nodded, and Bucky let out a sob as he tugged you into his arms. He was crying, but that was okay. You were too.

“Oh god, Y/N…I almost lost you. I—”

He groaned, and lips pressed against your hair, your forehead. Bucky held you tightly, whispering your name over and over as you trembled.

“Bucky, where…where am I? What happened?”

The last thing you could remember was falling asleep and here you were, locked in a glass cage and covered in blood—your blood, judging by the pain you felt radiating from your head and left side. You looked up at Bucky and were startled to see he was still in his uniform covered with dirt and grime, and if you weren’t mistaken, blood as well.

You reached up and fingered the dried blood in his hair worriedly. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

Bucky sniffed and wiped his face, still not loosening his hold on you.

“I’m all right sweetheart, it…it’s not mine. We just got back. You relapsed last night, and Bruce tried to help you, but…the Asset had control.” He worried his lip between his teeth. “You hit him, and he turned—”

“Oh my god, Bruce! Did I…is he okay?”

Bucky shushed you. “Bruce is fine, he doesn’t have a scratch on him. You—you took the brunt of it, and you…” His eyes anxiously searched yours. “Are _you_ okay? Where are you hurt?”

You shifted in his lap, wincing as you felt your ribs shift. “I don’t think it’s too bad, it probably looks worse than it is. I think my ribs are broken, and my leg hurts, but I can tell they’re already starting to heal.”

“Okay, let’s go up to medical and get you checked out, I—”

“Please Bucky, can we just skip it? I’m so tired, I just want to go home.”

There was a rapping on the glass, and you both looked up in surprise.

“Way ahead of you, kiddo. Dr. Cho is on her way, she’ll be here soon.”

You were glad. You felt so tired and disoriented, and you weren’t sure if you could handle the stresses of medical right now. Bucky understood, and he held you until Dr. Cho arrived.

The exam was brief but thorough, confirming what you had already suspected—broken ribs, a deep laceration to your left leg, and bruises and cuts all over your body. Of course she wanted you to spend the night in medical, but all you wanted was the comfort of your own bed.

With Bucky.

As you were walking out of the cell, Bucky’s hand under your arm for support, Bruce trotted up, wild-eyed and out of breath. He blanched, seeing your face and the amount of blood left in the cell.

“Y/N! Oh my g—I am so sorry! I-I tried to stop him but…are you…how bad is it?”

You smiled tiredly at him. You felt like you understood Bruce more now than you ever had. Both of you had a demon inside that could wreak havoc against your will.

“It’s all right Bruce, I’m fine. I attacked you first, you didn’t have I choice. I understand that.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t be. Neither of us were in control. I’m just glad we’re both okay.”

Bucky’s hand tightened on your arm, and he looked down at you with a soft expression. Maybe all three of you understood one another a bit more after the events of today.

Bucky led you to the elevators, and you relaxed against the wall as it propelled you upward towards your apartment. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there holding your hand, seemingly lost in thought. The elevator dinged open, and he kept his hand under your arm as you limped down the hall to your door.

Once the door was shut behind you he paused, closing his eyes and sighing heavily. You realized how tired he must be…how long the past few days had been for you both. He was filthy, and bloody—you both were—and at that moment all you wanted was to feel clean again.

You took his hand and led him into the bathroom.

Bucky hesitated only a moment before following you, his gaze impenetrable as he watched you turn the water in the shower on.

You took his hand and stepped into the shower together, fully clothed. Hot water rained down on you both as the blood and the dirt circled the drain. Clothing was slowly and gently peeled away and tossed to the floor until you were both standing there in your underclothes, inches apart, just looking at each other and breathing.

It was the first time you had seen each other’s bodies—not as the Assets, but as a man and a woman—as yourselves. Bucky’s gaze dropped and he eyed you hungrily, and you felt a low heat start to burn in your core.

Blinking against the spray, you stepped towards Bucky and traced the line of his jaw, his blue eyes staring unwavering into yours. Your fingers trailed down his neck and you heard his soft intake of breath as you paused at the hollow of his throat where his pulse beat before continuing along his collarbone.

He was beautiful. You traced the lines of his chest, feeling the ridges of his scars and the smooth softness of his skin. Your heart ached to look at him—he was both strong and vulnerable, flawless and scarred. He was everything to you. You loved him, and you wanted him to know it. You wanted all of him, and you wanted to give all of yourself as well.

He broke the silence first, breathing your name, everything summed up in that one word. It was soft and needy, commanding and dark, and you knew he needed you just as much as you needed him. The air was electric with tension before you closed the gap.

Your lips met in a crush of tongue and teeth. Hands gripped your waist and pulled you tight against his body, and he moaned into your mouth as he felt your fingers tighten in his hair. He pushed you back against the wall of the shower, mindful of your injuries, but you could feel his arousal as you ground your hips against him.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and he broke away, panting. “Y/N, are you sure? We don’t have to—"

“I love you,” you said simply, cutting him off—it was time it was said.

You heard his soft intake of breath and smiled. “I love you Bucky…James Buchanan Barnes…Soldat.” You said all of his names, punctuating each with a soft kiss. “I love all of you, every version of you, every inch of you. I have loved you and I have lost you a thousand times before this, and I am not letting you go until you hear me. Not until you know how deeply and truly I love you.”

Bucky huffed, his lips twitching up in a smile. You couldn’t tell if his eyes were wet from tears or if it was just the shower, but the way he looked at you left you speechless. He took your face in his hands, gently rubbing his thumbs along your cheekbones.

“I love you too, Y/N. I always have, and I always will.”

He kissed you, softly and sweetly, and you felt his lips smile against yours.

“Can I wash your hair?”

You smiled, hearing the question he had asked you every night since that first night he brought you to the Tower—you should have known then how much he loved you. You nodded as you turned, your eyes closing in pleasure at the familiar feel of his strong fingers as he worked the lather into your hair.

He kissed down the length of your neck and slipped the strap of your bra from your shoulder, his lips following closely behind. Slowly the last items of clothing were removed and you explored each other’s bodies, washing the dirt and blood from each other and gasping as your fingers found all the secret and sensitive places. Bucky moaned as your worked lather into his hair and you smiled, realizing he loved it as much as you did.

Soon the water began to grow cold. You both toweled off and exited the shower, but Bucky scooped you up in his arms when he saw you were still limping slightly.

You giggled. “Bucky, I can walk.”

“I know you can, sweetheart.” He smiled and pecked a kiss on your cheek. “You don’t have to though, I’ve got you.”

Bucky gently set you on the bed. He let the towel drop from his waist, and as he climbed into bed you could see he was still just as aroused as you were. You bit your lip and looked up at him, heat flaring in your core at seeing the blush that crept up into his cheeks.

Rolling towards you and pressing his body against yours, he kissed you without restraint, each touch and caress full of want and need and longing. You whimpered as his fingers found your core, and he exhaled sharply when he saw how wet you were. Bucky looked at you, pupils blown with desire and so dark there was barely a ring of blue left. He slipped his fingers inside you, his mouth falling open as he watched you come undone.

You moaned his name as the heat burned hotter in your core, and your hands twisted in the sheets. He trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your front, taking your nipple in his mouth and teasing you with his tongue as he brought you closer to ecstasy. He was panting with lust, and you halted him before you could spill over the edge.

“Bucky, I want you…I need _you_.”

His eyes flashed and he lowered himself onto you, staring into your eyes as he lined himself up with you. With one long move he pushed inside, gasping and eyes going wide as he felt you surround him.

“I love you,” he murmured, his eyes closing as he nuzzled your temple.

You started to respond but moaned instead as he started to move with you. His name was fire on your lips as you burned from within, the tempo of your lovemaking building until you felt ready to combust. Bucky panted and his thrusts grew erratic, his heart hammering against your chest as you both approached climax.

Suddenly you were over the edge, the fire burning out of control as you came and he released inside of you with a breathy cry, his hands tangling in your hair. Bucky’s chest heaved against yours as you both gasped for breath, trembling in each other’s arms as you came down from your high.

You lay quietly for a while, just holding each other. It was all you needed right now, and maybe, it was all you ever needed—just the feel of Bucky next to you.

You tenderly brushed you fingers across his lips and along his jawline, smiling softly. “I love you, Bucky.”

The smile he gave you made you feel as if the world began and ended in it. The way he looked at you—as if you had hung the moon and the stars—never had you felt more wanted or needed or complete than in that moment.

You took Bucky’s hand and held it between your breasts, right over the spot where he could feel your heart beating. He smiled at you as if he knew that it belonged to him now, and he kissed you softly, murmuring in your ear as sleep began to claim you both.

“I love you too, Y/N.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Action Violence, fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**Chapter 14**

**Avenger’s Quinjet – Sokovia, Europe - Three months later**

The lead Quinjet came in low over the trees, banking hard while Nat angled in for a landing. Three more Quinjets followed suit, and soon all four craft were safely obscured below the tree line. 

The Avengers had located the Hydra Research Base you and Bucky remembered from the photos, and you were on your way to overtake it. Steve and Tony had pulled out all the stops on this one, and everyone was going—including you.

You had been formally accepted into the Avengers a month ago. Bucky had been beside himself with pride, especially when he saw the new suit Tony had made you. It was similar in cut to your Hydra uniform, all black leather and reinforced cloth, ballistic plating that somehow provided protection while still maintaining your figure, and plenty of holsters for your weapons. Your favorite part was the design itself, because it mimicked Bucky’s uniform—all black with silver accents, and a red star on each shoulder.

Tony liked to play the part of a hardass playboy, but he was a romantic at heart.

Bucky’s jaw had dropped seeing you in it, and he blushed about three shades of crimson when he saw your figure in it and how it matched his. Sam and Nat teased you mercilessly for being one of “those couples,” but you didn’t care—you had once fought side-by-side, and now you were again. It seemed fitting.

You weren’t the only one being given some extra attention. Bucky had let Dr. Cho and Tony examine his arm, and they were working on making him a replacement. It broke your heart to hear their report of what Hydra had done to him, especially when Bucky admitted to being in almost constant pain from it.

The arm was absurdly heavy, and several of the bones in his shoulder and chest had actually been replaced with metal, just to support its weight. It was causing muscle damage, ligament tears, and the shifting of his spine, which had him leaning slightly to the right to compensate for it.

Dr. Cho had set Bucky up with some physical therapy and was consulting with the top neurosurgeons in the country to develop a plan to remove it safely. The physical therapy was helping immensely. Bucky actually enjoyed going, saying it was the best he’s felt in years.

You had gotten a peek at the design for the new arm, and you couldn’t wait for Bucky to see it. It was going to be made of Vibranium and only a quarter of the weight of his current arm. The servo-motors and internal machinery would be state-of-the-art, and Dr. Cho assured you both that although it would require several lengthy surgeries to remove the old arm and install the new one, the new arm wouldn’t cause him any pain.

You were both healing in more ways than one.

Steve had enlisted Sam’s help, and together they found a therapist through the VA that specialized in violent trauma recovery and PTSD. Bucky had grumbled about going at first—he was the type who wanted to help others but was hesitant about opening up himself, especially to a stranger. You and Steve convinced him to come to a couple of your sessions, and before long he was going regularly, sometimes for sessions with you and sometimes by himself.

It really seemed to be helping. You had a lot of confusing feelings, especially about John. You grieved for him and your parents, never having gotten the closure of being able to say goodbye.

John was a difficult subject for you. It hurt to remember your love for him; it seemed cruel, you had only remembered him for a few short days before he was taken from you again. Bucky was incredibly understanding. He encouraged you to talk about both John and your parents, and he was there for you every step of the way as you worked through your grief.

Talking about the atrocities you both committed while under Hydra’s influence was the toughest part. You both carried a tremendous amount of guilt because of it, but you were learning how to work through that together.

For the first time since you came to the Tower, you were both sleeping soundly through the night. Part of it was due to therapy, but it was also each other. Your relationship had blossomed into an incredibly passionate romance. Nothing was hidden from each other—you had seen each other at your best and definitely at your worst, yet you couldn’t imagine life without each other.

Bucky was an incredibly thorough lover, opening his heart, his body and his soul to you while exploring every inch of yours. He made you feel like the most important person in the world—he was you best friend and lover, your soulmate.

And now you were finally able to fight alongside him once again.

The Quinjet touched down and the ramp lowered. Bucky gave your arm a light squeeze and you followed him down the ramp and over to where everyone was assembled. Steve was standing there, conferring with Tony and giving orders.

“Bucky—you, Y/N, and I will take care of the guard towers, Banner—you focus on those bunkers.” He motioned over to where dozens of SHIELD agents were checking their weaponry. “Nat, Clint, and Sam will flank the Base with the rest of the SHIELD contingent.”

“And I’ll find us a way in the front door,” Tony quipped.

Steve nodded. “All right, you all have you assignments, let’s move out.”

***

“Report to your stations, this is not a drill. We are under attack—repeat, we are under attack.”

Alarm bells began to sound throughout the Base as Hydra soldiers converged on your position, firing strange looking weapons. It was a large force, boasting armored vehicles, a few tanks, and even a couple helicopters—but it still was smaller than what you expected. 

You and Bucky were perched on the back of a liberated Hydra vehicle being driven by a SHIELD agent straight towards the front line. You fired down at the soldiers, crouching low to replace your magazine as Bucky’s spent casings flew over your head. Your hands glided through the motions with muscle memory, the act of killing so deeply engrained in you that you didn’t have to think at all. It was a sensation that was very familiar to you, but wasn’t familiar was the constant snarky chatter from the Team over the comms device in your ear.

“Where the hell’d you get a motorcycle, you punk?” Bucky grunted as Steve sped past.

“Found it.”

“Stole it, you mean,” Bucky shot back.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw a large explosion rock the Base, but it appeared to have done no damage. Tony cursed loudly as he flew past.

“Shit!”

“Language,” Steve scolded. You rolled your eyes.

“JARVIS, what’s the view from upstairs?”

There was a pause on the line. Your vehicle skidded to a halt as it met up with a long, low barricade, and you vaulted over it. Bucky was right at your side as you landed and you both sprinted towards the first tower, firing as you ran and listening to JARVIS’s clinical analysis of the Base’s defenses.

“The central building is protected by some sort of energy shield.”

“We’ve got to get that shield down Tony, I think we’ve lost the element of surprise here,” Nat grunted.

Tony flew past, scanning the building for the shield’s heat signature. “Wait a second, no one else is gonna deal with the fact that Cap just said ‘language?’”

“I know, I know…it just slipped out.”

Bucky provided cover while you placed charges at the base of the first guard tower. The charges detonated and you both dodged incoming fire as Steve flipped off his motorcycle and threw it at the second tower, taking it down in seconds.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Bucky muttered.

Steve took the lead as the three of you raced to the third tower, you pace evenly matched with theirs. Off to your left, you could see two helicopters hovering over the SHIELD forces, pinning them down with merciless fire. Steve saw it too.

“Stark, we really need to get inside.”

“Working on it dear,” Tony said. “JARVIS, do you see a heat signature for that shield?”

“There’s a particle wave above the north tower.”

“All right, I wanna poke it with something. Cap, get ready to blow the front gate.”

Steve looked around as the third tower came crumbling down. “With what?”

The Base’s front gate was heavily fortified, with large particle cannons on either side. It would take a lot of firepower to open it. Bucky caught your attention and nodded towards the helicopters, a slight gleam in his eye. You caught the look and smirked back at him.

“We’re on it.”

You followed Bucky onto a low ridge along the tree line, flanking the helicopter firing down at the SHIELD troops a hundred feel below. He positioned himself in line with the helicopter as it turned in side profile, and you sprinted towards him at full speed. Bucky braced his hands like a stirrup and you jumped right before you crashed into him, your foot planting in his hands as he heaved you upwards over his shoulder. You flew towards the hovering craft, grabbing the landing skid and vaulting up next to the cockpit door.

“Barnes, did you just toss your girlfriend at a moving helicopter?” Nat sounded both amused and impressed.

You wrenched open the cockpit door and threw the pilot out. Quickly taking control of the craft, you banked sharply and fired on the second helicopter, sending it spinning to the ground in flames.

“That’s my girl,” Bucky said proudly. “Steve, we’re ready to blow that gate.”

“Roger that, all forces converge on my position.”

As you flew the helicopter towards the Base, you saw Tony fire a blast at one of the towers. The walls of the base seemed to flicker for a moment before the semi-transparent shield dropped away.

“Shield’s down. Give it hell, kid.”

You fired, emptying the helicopter’s impressive arsenal at the front gate as you sped towards it. Tying off the controls, you jumped from the open cockpit door and landed heavily, rolling to your feet as the gate dissolved in a fireball.

Bucky ran up next to you as you drew your weapons, and he fired over your head at a Hydra soldier that had sighted down on you.

“You good?” he hollered over the noise of the battle.

“Yep.”

The Avengers entered the courtyard. You and Bucky stood back to back, firing as Hydra forces swarmed. It seemed like an impressive force, but their numbers were dwindling fast. Bucky crouched, tossing a grenade at a large group and Steve shouted your name.

You looked up to see his shield flying towards you at the same time you saw a Hydra soldier level a large particle weapon at you and Bucky. You caught the shield and brought it up just as he fired, the strange blue blast ricocheting off the shield harmlessly.

Bucky heard the blast and turned, looking at you in surprise as you threw the shield back to Steve. A small smile played across his lips. He started to say something, but Steve’s voice cut him off.

“We’ve got them pinned down here, I want teams of two inside the Base—get the data before they destroy it all.”

Bucky pressed the comms device in his ear and spoke, motioning for you to follow him.

“We’re on it.”

***

Baron Strucker watched the approaching foes with a mixture of annoyance and excitement. Annoyance because the Avengers had sent a larger force than they were prepared to deal with, and he would have to concede the loss of one of their research facilities—the men lost were of no consequence, but the base had been conveniently located.

He felt a tinge of excitement mixed with his irritation, though, because they were finally able to set their plan in motion to re-obtain the Assets.

He could see them down there, working together once again. They were magnificent to watch, and even though he was watching them kill his own men, Strucker had to admit he was impressed—they hadn’t lost their edge.

The male spun and fired over the female’s head, and Strucker’s jaw clenched in irritation. He thought back to the last time he had seen him, over two years ago at this very facility. If he had known then what a thorn in his side the man would become, he would have put a bullet in his brain then and there.

Such a waste.

Strucker had been prepared for the possibility of the Avengers locating the Sokovia facility, and had already relocated the Twins and the Scepter to Siberia. As for the rest of it, what could not be removed would be destroyed…with a few exceptions.

“Herr Strucker, the Avengers have breached the outer gate. They’ll be within the Facility soon.” List was out of breath, panic written on his cragged face.

“You know what to do. Leave the Assets’ files and a few crumbs to sweeten the deal, then destroy the rest. I’ll meet you at the Vault.”

The doctor looked confused. “Why don’t we just grab them both now? They’re right here.”

Strucker watched impassively from the window. “Look at them out there, List. Our forces won’t last another twenty minutes against that. It is unfortunate, but we must regroup and continue our research—the Avengers cannot find out we have the Scepter, or what we’ve done with it. Even the Assets aren’t worth that risk.” He turned to leave, throwing on his jacket and grabbing his briefcase.

“Leave the files, List. The girl will come to us once she sees what he’s done.”

“Won’t she just kill him?”

“Possibly, but not likely—they’re lovers. They will follow each other to the ends of the earth, even unto death.”

“Then why would she come back to us?”

Strucker paused in the doorway and turned to smile unpleasantly.

“Revenge.”

***

**Hydra Research Base Sokovia - Two years ago**

Dress shoes and combat boots tapped alternating tattoos down the long concrete hallway, each man matching the other stride for stride. They turned the corner into a large open room where the Assets were stored and came to a halt in front of a circular chamber. Barely discernable behind the heavy layer of frost was a man with a metal arm and long chestnut hair, his eyes closed in an endless, frozen sleep.

Strucker nodded to the technicians, and they began the laborious process of withdrawing the Asset from Cryostasis. Next to him, Alexander Pierce murmured instructions to his own men and they eagerly walked over to the control center to watch and learn. Today, Pierce was being given his own Asset to control, and he wanted the transition to be flawless.

Only one man remained behind with Pierce. Brock Rumlow, a vicious terrier of a man with a brutal sadistic streak. He was to be the Asset’s new handler.

Strucker’s lips tightened into a line as he watched the thawing process commence—he couldn’t believe it had come to this. Time and again, the two Assets had remembered each other, and they had tried everything. Torture, higher intensity reconditioning, chemical injections—nothing had worked. They kept breaking through.

Finally, Strucker admitted defeat. The answer was right in front of him, after all. Pierce wanted an Asset, so he would send the male to him and keep the female for himself. She was superior, after all, and he hoped to create more Soldiers with aid of her serum and the Scepter.

The Asset’s chamber was fully open now. Technicians turned on more equipment, and a low steady tone emitted from the heart monitor.

“Stage one complete,” the technician called. “Beginning stage two.”

A high pitched whine, and the Asset’s body jerked. The monitor continued to flatline.

“Again.”

Another whine, and this time the monitor beeped erratically as a frozen heart struggled to beat again, before finally settling into a normal rhythm. The Asset’s head rolled weakly, his eyes closed above the mask covering his face.

“Asset’s vitals are stable, stage two complete,” the technician stated. “Beginning stage three.”

Two guards stepped up and took the Asset by the arms, hauling him out of the chamber and across the room to the Chair. The Asset’s head lolled on his shoulders, and he blinked rapidly in confusion as his feet dragged feebly along the ground. Pierce frowned.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“They’re always as weak as a kitten after being taken out of cryostasis,” Strucker explained. “Don’t worry, he’ll be in fighting form soon enough.”

Soon the room was filled with the Asset’s screams as electricity was passed through his head. Pierce merely observed with a coldly detached look, but Rumlow watched the convulsing man with barely concealed eagerness. He was actually enjoying this. The electricity was stopped and the trigger words were said, the Asset no longer panting and trembling but cold and distant—and perfect—once again.

“Good morning, Soldat.” Rumlow said, uttering the words he had been taught. The Asset stood, answering his new handler.

“Ready to comply.”

Pierce smirked. He walked forward and looked the Asset up and down, before nodding to Rumlow. The new handler swung his fist into the Asset’s abdomen, doubling him over with a grunt. Rumlow’s head cocked in surprise as the Asset stood, staring blankly ahead once again. He backhanded him across the face, yet the Asset did nothing.

“You see? Very docile.”

The Asset stood, tall and imposing, his dense musculature thrown into sharp relief by the harsh overhead lighting. He was a killing machine, his silver arm gleaming malevolently. A few icicles still clung to his long chestnut locks, partly obscuring his face—cold and dead, they were the predatory eyes of a shark circling the depths.

Pierce nodded in approval. “He’s quite the specimen, Wolfgang.”

Strucker bit the inside of his cheek, bristling at the familiarity. “He gets a bit unstable when he’s out of cryo for too long, he requires a firm hand…Alexander.”

“I’m sure we can handle him,” Pierce smiled icily. He walked up to the Asset, looking him in the eyes. “You and I are going to do great things.”

Pierce turned to leave. “Put him in the plane along with the rest of the equipment. I want to take off within the hour.”

“C’mon, dummy,” Rumlow said.

The Asset turned and obediently followed his new handler, passing the chamber where the female asset lay in icy slumber without so much as a glance.

***

**Avengers Tower - Present Day**

Bucky collapsed into bed, rolling over and tugging Y/N to him. She giggled as his lips grazed her skin, nipping at her neck.

“I thought you said you were tired.”

“Naw, that was just to get Steve off my back,” Bucky grinned. “I just couldn’t wait to get my hands on you, that uniform of yours had me all tied up in knots.”

His hands smoothed down her sides, lingering over the curve of her rear before gripping her thighs. Bucky lifted her towards him, capturing her lips with a growl.

“So goddamn sexy.”

He gasped as she bit his lip playfully. Her tongue darted into his mouth and he groaned as she rolled over on her side, wrapping her legs around his middle. He was starting to get worked up, but he paused a moment before pulling back and fixing her with a look of pure love.

“You were amazing out there today, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.”

She looked up at him, her smile turning serious at the edges. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you, Bucky.”

“Naw…I just got you out. You did the rest—that was all you.”

Y/N was silent for a long moment, drawing her fingers over his collarbone and down his arm. He shivered at her touch, heat flaring in his belly. Smiling softly, he traced his fingers down her brow and along her cheekbone, tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

God, he loved touching her.

“I love you, Bucky.”

She was looking up at him, the hint of a smile on her face as her eyes flicked back and forth between his. Bucky felt like he could drown in them.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

He pulled the covers up around their bodies as her lips met his, and Bucky sighed with happiness, never wanting the moment to end.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Fluff, Heavy Smut, Angst, Violence/Blood
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**Avenger’s Tower – One Week Later**

“Steve, is it okay if I use your place to get ready?” Bucky was busy in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and consulting a handwritten recipe card.

“Sure thing, Buck, already got your suit in my closet. Pepper picked it up yesterday.”

Steve sat at the kitchen island, drinking his coffee and watching Bucky cook—he’d been officially banned from using the common room’s kitchen after his third fire.

It was now September. Y/N had been at the Tower for six months. Bucky couldn’t believe how the time had flown. Six months away from Hydra, and she had blossomed like a beautiful flower. So much of their lives had changed. They had been officially dating for three months, and she had been accepted into the Avengers _and_ had completed her first mission.

There had actually been quite a bit of down time since their assault against Base Sokovia. They had been able to save some of the data before Hydra wiped it, but the tech department was still working on trying to extract the information. Until then, there hadn’t been much to do.

Which made this the perfect time for the surprise Bucky had planned for his girl.

It had been difficult, getting everything ready, and in the end he had needed to enlist both Steve and Tony’s help to pull it off. Three months they’d been together, and he had yet to take her on a first date. Bucky had planned it for weeks, his friends helping pull all the details together until it was just what he wanted.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

Someday—soon, he hoped—Bucky would be able to take her out on a proper date. During her days with Hydra, Y/N had been a ghost; not many crimes had been pinned on her, and although Hydra was still after her, she was only known as a missing person. Bucky, however, was still a very wanted man in the US, and the Tower was really the only safe place for him right now. Steve and Tony were working on getting his name cleared, and he was hopeful it wouldn’t take too much longer.

Because he had a question he wanted to ask her.

Y/N was it for him. He had known it for a while now, and he was pretty sure she felt the same way too. Bucky knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but he couldn’t ask her to be his wife while he was still a wanted man. He wanted them both to be free and clear of their past with Hydra, before taking the next step together.

Nat had made him at least give Y/N a hint about the surprise, and in the end he agreed. She was right—a gal would probably be pretty sore if her man pulled out all the stops to surprise her with a fancy date, and she showed up in leggings and a sweatshirt because she didn’t know.

_“So, you have any plans for Friday night?”_

_Y/N had looked at him, noting the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Oh, are you going to tell me what the surprise is now?” she huffed in mock irritation._

_“All I’m gonna tell you is that Friday night I’m taking my best girl out on a date, so clear your schedule.”_

_“A date?” Y/N looked confused. “Bucky, we can’t—they’re still looking for you, we can’t just—”_

_“You leave that part to me, sweetheart. Just be ready, because I’ll be knockin’ on your door at eight o’clock, sharp.”_

Well, here it was, Friday evening, and Bucky was up in Steve’s apartment.

In a way was just like old times, Steve helping Bucky get ready for a date. Not that there was much for him to do—he mostly sat at the window seat, drawing. So yes, maybe it was just like old times after all.

Except the roles had been reversed now. Steve had been dating a girl from accounting off and on for over a year, and Bucky hadn’t been on a date in over seventy years.

Even after being free from Hydra for almost two years, Bucky still felt strange falling back into a normal grooming routine. A hot shower, his hair clean and slicked back away from his face, a fresh shave, the feel of a soft new shirt against his skin, even a dash of Steve’s cologne…it all felt so luxurious and so…nice.

Bucky finished tying his shoes and buttoned the jacket on his three-piece-suit. He blinked at his reflection in the mirror, his lips twitching up in a small smile and nodding in approval.

_Not too shabby for a one-armed old ex-assassin._

He walked back out into the main room, brushing his palms against his thighs. Steve caught sight of him and whistled low.

“Lookin’ pretty slick there, pal…really putting on the old ‘Bucky charm’ tonight, huh?”

Bucky blushed a deep shade of crimson as he fiddled with his tie in the mirror. “She deserves it.”

Steve chuckled and stood, swatting Bucky’s hands away from the tie. “Here, let me…you always were terrible at tying these.”

Bucky grumbled as Steve re-did the tie and then stepped back.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, “do I pass muster, Cap?”

Steve looked him up and down, pretending to scrutinize every detail before his eyes went wide.

“Say, you look just like this fella I used to know in Brooklyn back in the day. Tall guy, dark hair, always getting’ into trouble, had a _terrible_ hero complex.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You wanna talk about a hero complex, I wouldn’t have gotten into half those scraps if it wasn’t for your skinny ass.”

“Yeah, the guy could be a real jerk, but he was a good friend…he was my best friend actually, and my brother.”

“Yeah?” Bucky grinned and cocked his head, tilting his chin up. When he did that, he looked exactly as he did back on that porch stoop in 1942, and Steve smiled.

“Yeah.” He grabbed Bucky around the shoulders, pulling the smaller man into a tight hug. “It’s good to have you back, Buck. I missed you.”

Bucky huffed, overcome with emotion. “I love you Stevie, thank you for…just for--”

“I love you too, Buck…even if you are a jerk.” Steve released him, and gave him a light shove. “Now go, get your girl and have a great time.”

“I will…punk.”

“Hey! Don’t forget your—”

“Oh yeah.”

Bucky snatched up the small bunch of flowers that had been sitting next to the door—peonies, Y/N’s favorite. He gave Steve a nervous little wave and closed the door softly behind him.

Bucky walked down the hallway a few doors and paused a moment before knocking on the door to the apartment he shared with Y/N. His heart was hammering in his chest and his throat felt dry, his palms sweaty as he brushed them down his pant leg for what felt like the millionth time before knocking on the door.

It was ridiculous; he didn’t know why he was so nervous. Maybe it was because this was the first normal thing he’d done in almost seventy years. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to feeling this good or looking this nice. But maybe…probably…it was just her. Everything mattered more when it was—

Her.

Bucky’s brain froze as the door opened, halting all coherent thought. For a moment it felt like his heart simply stopped as he looked at her, standing there with a nervous smile of her own and looking like an angel come down from heaven.

His angel.

His Y/N.

She was wearing a dark blue wrap dress with pale flowers detailed on the fabric, a more modern cut but on her it looked almost vintage. The color brought out her flawless complexion, making her look like she was glowing from the inside. Her hair had been styled, and she wore makeup—not too much, but just enough to bring out the rich color of her eyes, right down to the flecks of gold around the iris.

Bucky’s eyes poured over her figure, heat flaring as he noted how the dress hugged her curves, her long legs accentuated by the heels she wore. His eyes traveled back up to her red lips, and he licked his own nervously.

Nat’s head popped up behind her, smirking. “Oh, look…you broke Bucky,” she laughed as she gathered up her things.

_Say something, you idiot!_

“Y-You’re beautiful,” he stammered.

Y/N blushed, and he felt his heart begin to beat again. He realized she was staring at him with the same longing, open hunger, and he wondered how they were even going to make it through dinner.

***

You had never felt so pampered in your entire life. Back before Hydra you had certainly been more feminine—most all the girls were—but you still dressed sensibly and conservatively, even preferring slacks when you weren’t at the school. You hadn’t had many girlfriends; most were the army wives at Ft. Campbell, and it had been an awkward hierarchy among those ladies, each posturing and trying to wear their husband’s rank.

Nat was working to change that.

She took charge in her usual bossy way, directing you this way and that. She almost seemed more excited than you were for ‘the date’…you just felt nervous.

Bucky meant so much to you, and this almost seemed like a shift in your relationship, as unconventional as it had been so far. He was being so secretive, wanting to please you and make everything perfect, you felt a little overwhelmed, like you wouldn’t be enough somehow. Thank god for Nat—she had come through in the end, both to calm your nerves and help you get ready, and to help you with a little surprise of your own.

_“Nat, what’s an iPod?”_

_“Um…an iPod? It’s like…a little computer thing that plays music.”_

_You nodded. “I thought so.”_

_“Why do you ask?”_

_“I saw Sam teaching Bucky how to use one, and I know it’s for our date, but I had something else in mind. I want to surprise him.”_

Nat helped you get what you needed, and soon Friday rolled around and the two of you were up in your apartment, getting ready.

First up was a bath with what she called a “bath bomb,” an interesting little modern novelty that filled the bathroom with a sweet aroma while you scrubbed yourself until your skin shone. Then hair and makeup, all while Nat left one of her beloved chick flicks playing in the background.

It was wonderful, to spend the afternoon with a girlfriend, primping and giggling about men. You knew she had an on-again, off-again relationship with someone in the Tower, but she was still pretty close lipped about it. You were grateful for her help—makeup hadn’t changed all that much in forty-five years, but hair care products and devices sure had.

As had ladies undergarments. Boy, had those changed.

“Nat! I’ll look like a…a…loose woman wearing that!” You stuttered, taking in the sight of the sheer lacy garments she tossed at you.

“A _loose woman_?” she cackled, “God, you sound like Steve. Trust me, that’s perfectly acceptable to wear nowadays, and Bucky…well, I don’t think he’s going to complain too much. You might just give him a heart attack.”

You clamped your lips shut and tugged them on, feeling positively sinful.

You were a little nervous to see the dress. Nat said that she would take care of it; she said she had a good eye for that sort of thing. It turned out she was right, choosing a dark blue wrap dress that looked both modern and vintage somehow. The light, silky fabric felt good against your skin, and you smiled as you put on your heels and took a look at yourself in the mirror.

You felt better than you had in a long, long time. You actually felt pretty.

“Thank you Nat, it’s perfect.”

You sat together, pretending to watch the movie while Nat kept scolding you for fidgeting. Finally, there it was, the knock at your door, right at eight o’clock as promised. You were expecting it, yet your heart leapt in your throat and you jumped up like a nervous schoolgirl out on a first date.

“Will you open the door already? Don’t leave him standing out there.”

“O-Okay…okay,” you mumbled as you wiped your sweaty hands down the front of your dress and opened the door.

Your jaw dropped.

Bucky was standing there in an immaculately tailored three-piece-suit, looking for all the world like he stepped out of a magazine. The suit hugged his broad shoulders, the fabric shifting easily as he moved and betraying the power beneath.

His long, chestnut locks were slicked back, giving you a full view of his strong jawline and dimpled chin. He blinked at you in surprise, seemingly dumbstruck, his long lashes grazing sensually against his cheekbones as his eyes roved over your figure before meeting yours. It was amazing how his eyes almost seemed to change color with his moods—tonight they were the richest and deepest blue, and you were utterly lost in them.

“Oh, look…you broke Bucky,” Nat teased behind you.

Bucky flushed a deep scarlet, and his lips twitched up in a shy smile.

“Y-You’re beautiful,” he stammered.

You blushed, and Bucky grinned back at you. Your confidence seemed to grow mutually, and you cocked an appraising eyebrow at him.

“You clean up pretty good, mister.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, doll,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

“Okay, you two are disgusting, I’m outta here.”

You both laughed as Nat pushed past you dramatically, throwing a wink at you on her way out.

“Here…these are for you,” Bucky said, handing you a bouquet of the most beautiful peonies you had ever seen, pale pinks to the deepest blush.

“Bucky, these are beautiful, thank you.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, giving you a roguish peck on the cheek.

You laughed. “Oh boy, I’m in for it tonight, aren’t I?”

The look he gave you said you were in for it in more ways than one, but he simply shrugged and said, “Gotta treat my best girl right…it’s been awhile since anyone has.”

He waited while you found a vase for the flowers, placing them on your nightstand. Then he shut the door behind you, offering you his arm. He was mostly silent on the ride up in the elevator, and beneath his cool exterior you could tell he was a bundle of nerves, just like you were.

_Nothing to see here…just a couple of ancient ex-assassins going out on a date. Perfectly normal._

The elevator doors opened, and Bucky led you out onto the roof.

Your halted in your tracks, stunned.

The lights of the city blinked in the background as twinkle lights and Chinese lanterns crisscrossed overhead, creating a soft, ethereal glow over a table for two, set with a white tablecloth. More peonies dotted the linen casually, interspersed with a few candles skirting the place settings. Nearby, a bottle of wine chilled, and a rolling cart with covered dishes emitted heavenly aromas. You remembered him kicking you out of the kitchen this morning, and tears sprang to your eyes as you realized he had cooked the meal himself.

Bucky had done this—all for you.

“Bucky, it’s…it’s perfect.” You looked over at him, blinking back the tears, but he was busy looking over at the table in surprise.

Then you heard the music and smiled. Bucky’s eyes narrowed on the vintage record player near the table, and he glanced down at you in shock.

“I didn’t…did, did you—”

“Nat explained to me what an iPod was, and she helped me find something more fitting.”

Bucky laughed, looking relieved. “Thank god, because the speaker on that little thing was terrible. This is perfect!”

“I can’t believe you put all this together Bucky, this is…it’s,” you let out a breathy laugh, overcome by the thought of doing something normal for once, and the fact that he had done this all for you.

“Hey,” he said softly, noticing the tears well in your eyes. “Hey, it’s all right, sweetheart. I get it—it feels a little surreal. But you deserve this…we both do.”

He pulled you close and bent to kiss your cheek, but you turned your head instead, meeting his lips with yours. The kiss became heated quickly, and you both broke away with a nervous laugh.

“Doll, if we keep this up we’ll never get through dinner,” he said, nipping your ear. “What you do to me…you look absolutely stunning.”

You ran your hands down the smooth front of his suit, smiling as his breath hitched.

“You look just like that picture Steve gave me, you know, the way your face is lit up…like everything’s been just washed away.”

Bucky huffed and cupped your face in his hands, kissing you breathless. Finally, he let you come up for air and he took your hand in his, grazing his lips across your knuckles.

“C’mon, dinner’s getting cold,” he murmured.

The dinner was fantastic—Bucky was an excellent cook. He had chosen one of his mom’s old recipe’s that he had somehow remembered, something not too fancy but absolutely delicious, nonetheless. You both talked and laughed about trivial, inconsequential things, and the night flew by.

After eating you helped him clean up, and he sat pouring over the vintage records Nat had helped you find, songs from the forties through the sixties. He was floored you had even been able to scrounge up a few ancient 78’s, and he chose one, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you close.

Bucky was a great dancer, and he seemed pleasantly surprised by you as well. You fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle, effortlessly spinning through half-remembered dance steps. His guiding hand at the small of your back felt warm and comforting, and in his arms you felt safe…protected.

He led you through some of the older songs from the forties, songs you remembered from your childhood, but he was pretty quick to pick up on the newer ones from the sixties as well. The Temptations and Benny Goodman, Frankie Valli and Artie Shaw serenaded you as you danced together, your souls as light as feathers as you swayed to the music.

The song slowed, and Bucky held you a little closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands smoothed down your sides, leaving a trail of fire before resting lightly on your hips. He kissed you lightly on the cheek before pulling back a little and looking at you adoringly.

“Someday, I’m gonna take you out on a real date. You know, to an actual place, with people and everything.”

“You’re such a goof,” you laughed. “’A real place with people’…this was good enough for me. It was perfect, Bucky, it really was a perfect evening. Thank you for doing this.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he murmured.

The song ended and the record player spun to a stop as you walked over to the ledge and stood hand in hand, two people stuck out of time, watching the lights of the busy city below. Bucky seemed quiet, and his eyes looked a little sad.

“Where would you take me?” you asked softly, sitting down on the ledge and looking up at him. “If we could go anywhere, where would we go?”

Bucky hummed, and he sat down against the ledge next to you, his eyes lighting up. “Let’s see…there’s this little pizza joint in Brooklyn, Steve says it’s still there. Still owned by the same family and everything. I’d take you there, and introduce you to the best pizza of your life.”

He pulled your hand into his lap, playing with your fingers and squinting out over the city, as if he could see the date unfold.

“After that we’d walk down to the Empire Fulton Park down by the bridge. I’d hold your hand and think about how pretty you looked with the sun catching in your hair and bringing out your eyes. We’d ride the carousel like a couple of kids, and you’d giggle the whole time.

“Then we’d walk down to the water, and you’d take your shoes off so you could walk barefoot in the cool grass. I’d kiss you senseless under the trees, and then we’d just sit and hold each other for a while as the sun went down and the stars came out.”

His fingers trailed up your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“From where we sat we’d be able to see the lights of the whole city, played out across the water. And you’d say, ‘it’s so beautiful,’ and I’d say ‘yes, it is,’ only I wouldn’t be looking at the lights, I’d be looking at you.”

His fingers reached your chin and he tilted your head slightly, kissing you softly as your eyes fluttered closed.

“ _That_ would be the perfect date,” he said.

“It sounds wonderful.” You traced the strong line of his jaw, smiling as he sighed into your touch. “We’ll still get to do it, someday. It won’t be like this forever.”

“I know.”

He wrapped an arm around you, and you snuggled into him, leaning your head on his shoulder. You both lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Bucky seemed to be thinking about something, though. He stiffened slightly and his breathing picked up, almost as if he were working up the nerve to say something.

“Do you…do you ever think you might want to settle down again?”

He spoke so softly you almost missed it, and you paused, hearing the weight of his question. You knew exactly what he was asking you, but you didn’t even need to think about it—you already knew the answer. Still, it surprised you. You hadn’t known he felt the same way. You decided to play it casual.

“Sure, if the right guy came along,” you answered.

Bucky hummed. “The right guy, huh?”

“Something tells me I wouldn’t have to look too far to find him.”

He exhaled sharply and looked at you with liquid eyes, as if to confirm what you had just said. You just smiled and kissed him on his speechless lips, the confirmation right there.

“Where would we live?” you asked.

Bucky smiled. “I wouldn’t care as long as it was with you,” he said. “How about Maine? That’s where you’re from…”

“That was another lifetime,” you said, shaking your head. “We could if you wanted to, but there’s nothing for me there anymore. I’m ready for something new—what about Brooklyn?”

“You mean it? You’d want to live here?”

“Like you said, it doesn’t matter as long as I’m with you.”

“Hey, quit stealing my lines,” he chuckled. Brooklyn. Just the thought of having a home together made him grin from ear to ear…and in the city he loved, no less. Maybe a little brownstone, one with a little garden in the back…

“You still with me there, handsome? You look like you’re head’s in the clouds.”

He laughed. “I feel like I’m floating away, just thinking about it. You and me, our own home…a normal life.”

You smiled, imagining it too.

Neither of you mentioned children—Hydra had sterilized you both as part of the process, one less thing to worry about. You wanted it badly and knew he probably did too, but neither of you had the heart to bring it up.

One more thing that had been taken from you both.

Instead, he pulled you a little closer, nuzzling your cheek and breathing you in. A light floral perfume and the sweet smell of your shampoo, along with a scent that was just—you.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.”

Your lips met again, only this time it was a little more heated and a little less gentle. You whimpered, feeling a coil of need tighten in your stomach. Bucky looked up at you, and you saw that his eyes were blown black with desire. His fingers darted under your dress, smoothing up your thighs a couple inches before he stopped himself.

Bucky must have seen the want in your eyes, because he stood and offered you his hand, helping you to your feet. The atmosphere was electric in the elevator on the ride down; both of you knew if you started anything right now you wouldn’t be able to stop.

The door to your apartment had barely even closed before you were on each other in a crush of lips and hands. Clothing was carefully but frantically removed, tossed in the corner as you sought the skin to skin contact you both craved.

Your dress fell away, and Bucky’s eyes went wide seeing the sheer black lace beneath. He twitched and swallowed thickly before he regained his senses, scooping you up in his arms and depositing you on the bed with a sigh.

“Sweetheart, you are going to be the death of me,” he said, raising a trembling hand to lightly stroke the fabric.

Your nipples hardened under his touch, and you gasped his name as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric to tease you. Rolling over onto you with a soft laugh, he carefully balanced his weight on one arm as his fingers worked their way down, trailing down your stomach and across your hips before resting against your core. He groaned at the feel of your wetness soaking through the fabric.

Bucky looked up at you through heavily lidded eyes and pulled off your lacey bottoms, before moving down and positioning himself between your legs.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded and he smiled, bending down and placing a tender kiss on your hipbone. Alternating between soft kisses and playful bites, he worked his way up your thigh until he reached your center. He breathed lightly against you before touching his tongue to your core, groaning at your sweet taste. The warmth of his mouth lapped over you, his soft tongue sliding across your sensitive bud. He gripped your hips and held you steady as the fire in your belly began to build.

Seeing you needed more, he inched up and pulled off your bra. You gasped as the cool air hit you, and you felt his tongue slide over your nipple, taking it in his mouth the same time his fingers entered you. Your back arched and your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping hard. Bucky growled and ground his hips against you, seeking his own relief as he brought you closer and closer to yours. 

“It’s okay sweetheart, let go…I’ve got you,” he murmured.

His fingers reached a frenzied pace, and the heat consumed you as the world went white. Hips bucking against his hand, he brought you down slowly, stilling the tremors that wracked your body.

Your eyes fluttered open. Bucky looked down at you, his long chestnut hair messy and his lips pink, his eyes still dark with need. A carnal urge stirred within you and you pushed him back onto the bed.

“My turn,” you whispered.

His eyes went wide as you eased off his boxer briefs. Your lips and hands were purposely everywhere except where he needed you, exploring his chest and taught stomach, across his hips and down his thighs, and he groaned at the teasing, twitching under your touch. He whined your name, pleading with you. You chuckled softly and gave him what he wanted.

Bucky moaned obscenely as he felt you take him in your mouth. Your lips closed over him and you went to work, feeling him pulse beneath you. Bucky swore viciously as used your mouth and hands to bring him to the edge, easing him back down before he could spill over. Your tongue flicked over his tip, and his head arched back as he let out a breathy laugh.

“S-Shit…I’m not…I’m not gonna last much longer w-with you doin’ that.”

Bucky’s eyes closed and he bit his arm to keep from crying out, his throat working as he gasped for air. The muscles in his abdomen tightened, and he whimpered.

“P-Please…I need you around me,” he panted. “I want to feel you…all of you.”

You let up and he started to roll you over, but you pushed him back on the bed. Bucky’s eyes flashed and he grinned in surprise as you straddled him, taking him in your hands and guiding him towards your entrance.

In one smooth motion you took him in, and he cursed again as you began to rock your hips against his. Bucky moaned and he looked up at you with such a stunned look of pure adoration that you couldn’t help but smile, despite the heat building in your core. 

Bucky’s hands fastened around your waist and he took control, guiding your hips as he thrust against you. You fell forward and braced yourself against his chest, and beneath your palm you could feel his heart beating faster and faster as he built momentum. You were so concentrated on his approaching orgasm that your own washed over you without warning and you cried out, your walls clenching tightly against him.

Bucky arched off the bed, his hands tightening around your hips and slamming you down as he released inside of you with a cry. His heart stuttered, skipping several beats as you collapsed against him. For a long time he just held you against his chest as you both came down, both of you gasping and neither of you able to form words.

You were the first to move. “I don’t know about you, but I need a shower after that.”

Bucky was on his feet in seconds, eyeing you hungrily once again. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said suggestively.

Oh, that super soldier stamina.

Once in the shower he pressed your back up against the wall, his eyes flashing. His lips nipped over your pulse point, and he grinned when he felt its pace. You were just as ready as he was.

Gently he turned you around as the water poured over you both, and he pushed up against your rear, his hands gliding up your front and gripping your throat with a feather-light touch. You felt his breath in your ear as he bit your earlobe playfully but possessively.

“I’m not done with you yet, doll,” he growled.

Several orgasms later, the water had gone cold and you both toweled each other off, smiling and trembling and exhausted. Bucky’s face was flushed, but he pulled you into a tender kiss, his eyes speaking the love you knew he held for you in his heart.

You both slipped beneath the sheets and he pulled you close, resting your head on his chest. He kissed your hair and drew little circles down your back, and you listened as he murmured sweet nothings in your ear, barely audible above the steady beat of his heart. You sighed happily and kissed him as sleep started to claim you, whispering back to him.

“I love you, Bucky. In this life and the next, I will always love you.”

***

**Hydra Base Siberia – October 1968**

The last thing you remembered was driving your car home, listening to the radio and thinking about John. The dress you had been wearing was new, a light cap-sleeve dress with a floral pattern, and you had just gotten your hair styled. You actually felt kind of pretty for once.

You didn’t feel so pretty now.

The light slapping noise of your bare feet against the cold concrete made a sharp contrast to the heavy tromp of the combat boots your captor wore. The dress was ripped now, your hair a mess and your mascara running from your tears. There was blood in your mouth from your split lip, and more of it dried on the side of your face from where he hit you.

At least you had gotten in a good swipe before he decked you—you could still feel his blood and skin under your nails.

Everything hurt. Your face was throbbing and your head felt fuzzy, probably from whatever he injected you with. Nausea from a blow to the gut and the drug had turned your stomach sour, and you just wanted to curl up into a ball. You couldn’t though, because your hands had been tied mercilessly behind your back. 

Your feet skidded on the slick surface and your captor hauled you upright, one vicelike hand wrapped around your arm. You hadn’t been able to get a look at him yet—everything was blurry.

The drug made it hard to lift your head…hard to focus.

You turned a sharp corner and found yourself in a small room. Your captor released you, and without his support your legs gave out and you fell to the floor. Double doors opened, and through them you just caught a glimpse of what looked like an operating suite before another figure stepped into view.

A rough hand gripped your hair and yanked hard, pulling your head up. Now you had no choice but to look up at this new antagonist.

He was tall, with close cropped hair and a face that could almost be considered handsome if it weren’t for the cruelty written on his features. A strange looking monocle clung to the side of his face, the light catching it as he crouched down in front of you.

His hand reached forward and gripped your jaw almost tenderly, turning your face to the side as if to inspect you.

“Excellent bone structure,” he hummed in approval, “good genes…why, she even looks a bit like him.”

_What the hell is he talking about?_

You tried to pull your face from his grip. “Wha…wha d‘you wan…with me?”

Your tongue felt heavy, and the words wouldn’t come out right. The door opened again, and a doctor in a white lab coat walked out. He said something to the man in Russian, and you stiffened. The man chuckled, sensing your fear.

Because if you weren’t scared enough before, you surely were now.

“Wha…r you gonna do…to me?”

“Everything.”

The man nodded to your captor, and he released you. You fell forward, so weak you could barely hold your head up. But lift it you did, sending a bloody wad of spit at the man’s face.

“Fuck…You.”

The man laughed, a surprisingly rich and warm sound as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth.

“By god, she has fire! We can use that, but we’ll have to tamp it down a bit first, I think,” he said, before backhanding you across the face.

You went sprawling. From your position on the floor you watched as your captor’s boots walked across the stone surface to stand in the dark corner. Then your vision was obscured once again as the monocled man bent down over you.

“Oh my little sparrow,” he cooed sweetly, “This is only the beginning. You are what we’ve been waiting for…the start of a new era. I imagine the process will be quite unpleasant, but you—you will become something magnificent. You will help shape the world.”

He stood and motioned to the guards, who stepped up and hauled you to your feet. Turning to leave, he stopped for a moment and addressed your captor, standing quietly in the shadows.

“Good work, Soldat. Proceed with the mission.”

As you were dragged through the double doors, wondering what fresh horrors awaited you, your captor shifted and you almost thought you saw the glint of metal in the darkness.

***

**Avengers Tower - Present Day**

The girl frowned in her sleep. She rolled over on her side and let out a small whimper, burying her face in the pillow.

Even from the depths of his sleep, Bucky seemed to sense her distress. He unconsciously rolled next to her and wrapped his arm around her, before drawing her close to his chest. Cocooned by his warm embrace she sighed, her whole body relaxing into a deep sleep once again.

They lay together, fingers intertwined as the moonlight glinted off his metal arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't help myself, made a moodboard for Bucky's Date Night


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Light Smut, Fluff, Graphic Violence and Blood, Depictions of a Murder, Panic Attack, Seizure. **This chapter is pretty brutal, it depicts some of Bucky’s crimes as the Winter Soldier. If you think this will bother you, skip the flashbacks.**
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

The bright morning light streaming across the sheets is what woke him.

For the longest time Bucky just lay there as his senses came alive, taking in his surroundings. The cool, crisp feel of the sheets, the warmth of Y/N’s body lying intertwined with his. The slight ache in his muscles, reminding him that last night he had made love to his woman until they could both barely stand. 

Bucky smiled and bit his lip at the memory.

He rolled over and stared at her in amazement, drinking her in. Her hair was lightly tousled against the pillow, her lips slightly parted. She was still naked, and although the sheet was pulled up over her chest he could still see the soft curve of her breasts as they rose and fell with even breathing. He could still smell her perfume, floating over the sweet musk of their lovemaking.

She loved him.

She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him—she had all but said it last night. Y/N, who understood him so completely, had given her heart to him, just as he had given his to her. Everything they had been through, everything they had survived, had all led up to this.

Bucky never thought that he could ever be this incandescently happy.

Y/N stirred in her sleep and he saw she was on the verge of waking up. Bucky propped himself on one elbow and grazed his lips over her exposed skin, kissing her awake. Her eyes blinked lazily open and she smiled down at him.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said, nipping at her chin and making her laugh.

“Well, good morning to you,” she murmured. “I could wake up like this every morning.”

Bucky hummed. “Me too.”

He kissed along her collarbone and worked his way down towards her breasts, smiling at her sharp intake of breath. Y/N let out a noise somewhere between a hum and a growl, and she pushed him back on the bed.

“What, you didn’t get enough of me last night?” he teased.

She leaned down and placed a tender kiss against his chest, directly over his heart, looking up at him through long, dark lashes.

“I’ll never get enough of you.”

Buck’s eyes flashed, and he groaned as he felt her tongue slide over his chest, her nails digging into his sides. His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping hard and tugging her up to his mouth as she wrapped her legs around him.

Two hours later they were still in bed, a tangle of limbs beneath the sheets. Y/N’s head was resting on his chest, and he could hear her softly humming under her breath.

“That’s pretty, that song—what is it?”

He felt her smile. “It’s an old song by _The Beatles_. I was listening to it on Sam’s iPod, and I remembered it from before. I like the lyrics…they remind me of you.”

“Can you sing it for me?”

For a long moment she didn’t move, and he thought she wasn’t going to. Then he felt her lips tug into a smile, and she began to sing softly.

_There are places I’ll remember_

_All my life, though some have changed_

_Some forever, not for better_

_Some have gone, and some remain_

_All these places have their moments_

_With lovers and friends, I still can recall_

_Some are dead, and some are living_

_In my life, I’ve loved them all_

Bucky had never heard her sing before. He should have known a former music teacher would have a good voice, but he was still left breathless—not only by the sweetness of her singing, but by the words she sang to him.

_But of all these friends and lovers_

_There is no one compares with you_

_And these memories lose their meaning_

_When I think of love as something new_

_Though I know I’ll never lose affection_

_For people and things that went before_

_I know I’ll often stop and think about them_

_In my life, I love you more._

The song ended, and Bucky found himself blinking back tears. He held her tightly, the weight of the lyrics sitting heavy with him. Y/N lifted her head from his chest and sought his lips, and she whispered softly against them.

“In my life, I love you more.”

***

“Have a good run, I’ll see you later this afternoon…try not to kick Steve’s ass too much, okay?”

Y/N chuckled from her position on the floor, where she was lacing up her sneakers. Bucky bent and kissed her cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Bucky left the apartment and headed for the elevators. Tony wanted to meet with him to discuss the final plans for his new arm, and Y/N was going for a run with Steve.

Bucky was excited about the new arm. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to all the surgery involved—medical still had a way of sending him into a panic—but if it got rid of the last, ever-present reminder of his days with Hydra, it would be worth it.

And the pain…he was definitely looking forward to putting an end to that, he thought grimly as he rubbed his aching shoulder. Y/N had massaged the knots from his shoulder and back after their sexual escapades both last night and this morning, but it still hurt.

Maybe he would see if the physical therapist could squeeze him in after he was done meeting with Tony.

The elevator dinged open, and Bucky walked out, turning left past Tony’s penthouse suite and opening the door to his office.

Tony was seated behind his desk, legs kicked up as he read from an open file. There was a small stack on the desk in front of him.

“Hey—I called you up here for the arm, but look what tech just brought me,” Tony said, waving the files. “Took them long enough, but they were finally able to break through the encryption. They printed out paper copies of the digital files you retrieved. ”

“What’d they find?” he asked.

“Some info about their tech, mostly low-key stuff, some internal communications, and—surprisingly—some files containing a _bunch_ of info on you and Y/N.”

He tossed one to Bucky as he sat down across from Tony.

“Here’s Y/N’s file.”

Bucky stared at the file in his hands, his heart thudding. Here were all the answers—about her past, about why she was taken. He clenched his jaw and set the file on the table, opening it slowly.

It seemed to proceed backward. On top were mission details, some he knew of, and some he didn’t. Her kill count. Medical records. Log entries for wipe procedures and cryostasis intervals. _Very_ detailed information about her interactions with him, both observed and perceived. Bucky’s throat tightened as he read the information; he turned the page, and he saw the date listed as October 1968.

There were records of experimentation and her reaction to the serum. Details of her…genetics? Bucky turned another page, feeling sick to his stomach. Several loose photographs tumbled into his lap, and he bent to pick them up.

Bucky looked at the photographs, and his heart stopped.

A beautiful woman. Y/N…his Y/N, dressed in a cap sleeve swing dress and her hair styled in a short bob, arm in arm with a man with unruly dark hair. She was smiling up at him.

Y/N again, sitting at a park bench, lunchbox open in front of her. She was reading a book.

The man, this time walking to his car, briefcase in hand.

An elderly couple working in the garden of an old farmhouse. There was a dog sleeping on the front porch.

The photographs were of a very high quality, and Bucky had no trouble recognizing the subjects.

He had no trouble, because he had seen these photographs before.

_“Mission objective.”_

_“Soldat, the first stage is extraction of the target. Target must be brought in alive, with minimal harm. The second stage is sanction…no witnesses during either stage. Understood?”_

_“Da.”_

Bucky’s hands began to shake.

Suddenly, he could feel the grip of a steering wheel beneath his hands. He smelled the sharp tang of kerosene, the pine sap. He saw rosy tendrils of crimson, mixing with the mud.

_No. No, no, no…_

Bucky felt his gorge rise as a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. His hands clenched the photographs, and he felt his breathing accelerate.

It couldn’t be true.

It was.

He did it.

_Oh, god._

He was goin to be sick.

He had to get out of there.

Bucky stood without a word, the chair falling backwards as he turned and walked towards the door, pushing it open without even slowing.

***

Tony looked up in surprise as Bucky fled the room. The man hadn’t said a word, he simply stood and walked out, leaving the file open on the desk. Scowling, he pulled the file closer.

It was Y/N’s file. Mission details, kill count, various entries about “resets” and “maintenance.” Tony shuddered at the cold, detached log entries.

He paged back further, and there were details about her life before Hydra. Research about her lineage, observations and surveillance, and—above all—photographs.

Surveillance photographs.

Something clicked inside Tony’s head, and he laid the file he had been reading alongside hers. It was Bucky’s file, containing the same carefully detailed information—including past missions. He cross-referenced the dates and locations in the two files, and sat back in his chair heavily.

“Oh, shit.”

***

Thank god there was a bathroom across the hall from Tony’s office.

Bucky shouldered the door open and thankfully made it to the stall, nearly ripping the door off its hinges as he was violently sick into the toilet. He coughed and sat back on his heels, sweating and shaking uncontrollably as he continued to dry heave.

Once he was absolutely sure nothing more was coming up, he stood on rubbery legs and stumbled over to the sink. He rinsed out his mouth and splashed water on his face, resting his trembling forearms against the sink’s edge.

It couldn’t be true. It just _couldn’t_ —there was no way he could have done that, he would have remembered it before, he couldn’t have…

It couldn’t be true.

But it was.

It was, and he did.

Because Bucky had seen those pictures before. They were surveillance photographs.

Surveillance photographs to help the Asset complete his mission.

_Oh god, oh god, what did I do?_

Another voice answered him, cold and emotionless. The voice of the Asset.

_You know what you did. What you did to them…and what you did to her._

“N-no,” he moaned as images flashed through his mind.

An elderly couple laid out in bed, side by side while flames licked the walls.

Brown eyes staring sightlessly up at him, an unruly cowlick splattered with blood.

Her body lying limply in his arms as he walked to the rear of a car.

Blood on his hands.

Bucky gripped the porcelain until it cracked and closed his eyes, but all he saw were hers, smiling out of the photograph at him—her abductor. Superimposed over that was the image of her smiling up at him, just this morning—her lover.

_I love you, Bucky._

He was panting, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Bucky was spiraling completely out of control now, his heart beating so fast and so hard it felt like it was going to explode.

It hurt.

He couldn’t breathe.

Bucky clutched at his chest as he started to hyperventilate. He was scared—he could feel it coming, and all he wanted was her soothing touch, telling him it would be okay. He couldn’t though…he couldn’t—he wouldn’t call out for her.

All he could see was the photographs. Their eyes, staring back at him with accusation.

_What have I done?_

Bucky stumbled into the counter, trying to keep his feet as a high-pitched whine started to claw its way into his skull. He couldn’t feel his face or his hands. Dimly, he was aware of JARVIS speaking to him.

_“Sergeant Barnes, your vitals are dangerously elevated, I suggest you sit down. I’ve called Dr. Cho and Captain Rogers to assist you.”_

“Don’…Don’ do that,” he slurred. Everything felt wrong, slipping sideways. “M fine…d-don wan them…in here.”

If the AI answered him he didn’t hear it. A tremor shocked through his body and he went rigid before he fell, striking his head on the edge of the counter as the world went white.

***

**South Portland, ME – October 12 th, 1968**

“Harry, time for dinner. Put down the book and come inside.”

Harry put down the book as ordered, and dutifully went inside, snuffing out his pipe on the way. It was getting chilly, and shaping up to be a fine autumn. He was excited—Y/N had said she was coming to visit next month after John came home, and it had been a long time since they had seen her.

He was proud of his daughter, of the life and the career she had made for herself. Women of his generation generally stayed in the home, but he admired how his daughter had embraced the modern virtues and had a career before she settled down. She was exceptionally gifted, and he loved to see her continue his passion for music.

Walking inside, he pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead before he settled down at the table next to her.

“Looks great, Maggie. It’s been a while since we had pot roast.”

Margaret smiled at her husband as she served him. “It was a chilly kind of day, so I figured a chilly kind of meal was in order.”

They lapsed into silence as they ate, two empty-nesters both content in their routine.

“Pats are playing Sunday.”

“How’s that new quarterback working out?” she asked.

Harry snorted. “Taliaferro? What a schmuck. I don’t know why we ever took him on.”

Margaret hummed, the extent of her football knowledge exhausted.

“You hear from Y/N?” she asked.

She frowned. “Not since the letter last Tuesday, she missed her weekly phone call though. I’m not surprised though, she’s so busy with the fall musical, and you know how unreliable those party lines are.”

Harry grunted. “Probably excited about the prospect of John coming home.”

Margaret smiled thinly. She had been the wife of a soldier, once, and she understood the anxieties her daughter was facing.

“She is,” she said. “I’d like to have them up to the house once he gets home, it’ll be good for them both to be around family again.”

Harry smiled at his wife. “That would be nice…I miss her.”

Dinner was finished, and the dishes were done. Harry sat out on the front porch with the dog, smoking his pipe and listening to the radio as Margaret sat in the living room, knitting.

Harry heard a soft thud from the direction of the living room, barely discernable above the radio.

“Maggie?”

No answer.

Harry stood, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling—he wasn’t sure why.

Pushing open the storm door, he entered the living room and ground to a halt.

Margaret was lying at the foot of her chair, her eyes staring blankly up at him and her head cocked at an unnatural angle.

“M-Maggie?”

Harry’s mind whirled as he knelt beside the prostrate form of his wife. His hands ghosted over her features—he knew she was dead, yet he refused to believe it. He was so focused on her, that he never heard the soft footsteps behind him.

Strong hands gripped Harry’s head and twisted, snapping his neck and ending his life instantly.

Neither of them had felt a thing.

The Asset stood and hefted the bodies, first one, then the other. He laid them side by side in their bed, and from the right angle they looked almost peaceful.

He grabbed the can of kerosene, pouring down the stairs and out onto the porch, where the dog stared lifelessly up at him. The farmhouse was old, and the arson investigators wouldn’t look to seriously into the cause of fire.

The flare of a match, and the farmhouse began to burn.

The Asset melted into the tree line, watching the blaze with a coldly efficient stare.

***

**Quang Nam Providence, Vietnam – October 18 th, 1968**

They were headed up into the hills.

The hills meant tunnels, and that set John’s teeth on edge.

He was the sergeant in command of a squad of eight men, directly under the command of Lieutenant Jimmy Cross of Second Platoon. He was a good leader but he was soft, his head always in the clouds and not where it belonged.

The Lieutenant had led them up into the hills, and John had followed. One foot after the other, humping mounds of crap up one hill and the next. Leaning forward against the heat, no thoughts of his own, a math teacher from Maine reduced to the simplest grunt.

Through it all, one name. One image in his head.

Y/N. Over and over like a mantra.

One more month.

Tomorrow they would explore the tunnels, routing them of the VC where they could, and detonating the tunnels where they couldn’t.

Tomorrow, he would lose some men. He knew it.

John watched as his squad prepared night camp. Dobbins pulled first watch, and they all settled down in their foxholes for the night.

It was October, the end of the monsoon season in the Quang Nam Province, but that wasn’t always a guarantee. Tonight, however, the weather gods seemed to cooperate, and brilliant stars dotted the evening sky.

In his foxhole, John sat back to back with the RTO, Mitch Wallace. He was a bear of a man, well over six feet, and his head always seemed to poke over the top of the foxhole no matter how deep they dug it.

The air was thick and wet, but at least it wasn’t raining. The stars were out tonight, and John wondered if Y/N was looking up at the same sky.

He pulled a well-worn photograph from his breast pocket. It was encased in plastic—he had sealed it after his first month INCONIS, when he realized just how wet it really was.

Y/N, smiling up at him.

She was wearing a light, summery dress, and her hair was a little wild. He had shot the photograph on the Kodak Instamatic she had gotten him for Christmas. It was developed in vivid Kodachrome color, capturing the precise hue of her hair, her eyes…even the blush in her cheeks as she smiled up at him.

John felt like she was here, now, with him.

He smiled and rotated the wedding ring on his finger, brushing his fingers over the photograph.

He was still looking at it when the shot rang out, but John never heard it.

His head erupted in a shock of blood and gore, and the sergeant dropped like a bag of cement. Dobbins cried out as he saw his sergeant fall, and he shouldered his rifle as the squad looked for the source of the ambush.

But there was nothing save for the lingering darkness and the whine of insects in the jungle.

Shots rang out, seeming to come from all directions. Men fell, and soon the jungle fell silent once again. The Asset walked up to the camp and found his target. Brown eyes stared sightlessly back at him, unruly cowlick splattered in red. A photograph of a woman lay next to the man, rosy tendrils curling around it in the mud.

Satisfied, the Asset turned and walked away, and the jungle swallowed his retreating form.

***

**Route 41, Kentucky – October 6 th, 1968**

The Asset’s hands gripped the steering wheel of the Ford Fairlane as he drove. Outside the window, farm fields sped by, the car’s headlights cutting through the darkness. It was a moonless night—a good night for dark work.

_There’s something happening here, what it is ain’t exactly clear._

_There’s a man with a gun over there, a-tellin’ me I’ve got to beware._

The radio was still playing, but not because he was actually listening to it.

It simply hadn’t occurred to him that he could turn it off.

In the Ford’s trunk, the girl stirred, crawling out of the inky depths of a chloroform sleep. She blinked and looked around, taking in her surroundings and biting back a scream as she realized she was locked in the trunk of her own car. Vaguely she remembered checking a flat tire, seconds before hands had grabbed her from behind.

The girl heard music, and she realized the crazy bastard was still listening to the radio as he drove.

_Stop, hey, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin’ down._

Who was he?

Why had he taken her?

What was he going to _do_ to her?

Her imagination vividly played out several scenarios, and she felt warm tears slide down her face. She had to get out of there—she had to do something.

A brief moment of panic, then she remembered the rear seat release. She felt around, hands skirting the blown tire that had been placed in the trunk with her, before her hands fastened around the tire iron.

Heart hammering in her throat, the girl swallowed a sob and reached up to pull the strap, easing the seat down and praying that he wouldn’t hear.

The radio was still turned up where she had left it, and the Asset almost didn’t hear the soft creak of vinyl behind him.

Almost.

His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, and he saw the seat lower as the girl crept forward, tire iron in hand.

He slammed the brakes, just hard enough to knock her off balance, but not hard enough to send her flying into the dash and risk breaking her neck.

The girl flew forward, tire iron rattling into the footwell as she tried to catch herself. She tumbled into the front seat. The Asset reached for the tire iron, assuming she would go for that, but she surprised him by launching herself at him instead.

Her nails raked his face, narrowly missing his eye as she scrabbled towards his throat. He hit her, his fist connecting hard across the temple, and she fell back against the door in a daze.

The car ground to a halt and the Asset got out, fingering the bloody gouge near his eyebrow. He wasn’t angry—in truth, he didn’t feel anything, but this could not continue if he were to complete his mission.

The Asset yanked the door open and the girl fell out, moaning. He hauled her to her feet and she began to scream, wild undulating sounds that echoed through the night. Her screams surprised him and he reacted instinctively.

He hit her in the gut and she fell silent, gasping for breath. His hand was vicelike on her arm as he dragged her back to the trunk—they still had a few miles to go.

The girl lay in the dirt as he bound her hands and feet. From his pack in the backseat he withdrew a syringe—he had been saving it for the transit to Base later, but it was clearly needed now. He jabbed the needle into her throat and slammed the plunger home, and the girl immediately went slack.

He carefully, gently placed her once again in the trunk of the car, and drove the last few miles to the quarry. It was conveniently placed near the extraction point, and it was where he had been directed to dispose of the car.

The Asset opened the trunk, lifting the girl out and placing her gently on the ground. He placed his fingers under her jawline, feeling her pulse—she was to be brought in intact and whole, they had been very specific about that. The girl’s pulse was slow and steady and her chest rose and fell with even breathing, and he stood, satisfied.

The Asset walked up to the car, positioned on the cliff above the quarry. From the back seat he pulled his pack and his rifle and laid them on the ground next to the girl. He put the car into drive and pushed it over the edge, down into the dark waters below. The car fell with a splash and sank quickly, the radio still playing.

_Paranoia strikes deep, into your life it will creep_

_It starts when you’re always afraid, step outta line, the man comes, and takes you away._

_You better stop, hey, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin’ down…_

The Asset watched the bubbles disappear from the submerged car until they dissipated completely. Then he returned to the girl, hefting his pack and his rifle onto his shoulders, before lifting her carefully in his arms and walking off into the woods towards the extraction point.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Panic Attack and Seizure, Blood, References to Murder, PTSD/Depression, Angst
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

“We’ve got a problem.”

“What is it, Tony?” Steve asked. He and Y/N were in the elevator, headed up to the residence levels after their run.

“Not really a phone conversation, I need you up here as soon as you can. Is, uh…Y/N with you?”

“Yes.” Steve looked over at her and she cocked her head at him, wondering what was going on.

“Better have her sit this one out…it’s kind of a delicate situation.”

“All right, I’m on my way,” Steve said as he hung up the phone. Could the man have possibly been any more cryptic?

“What did Tony want?”

Steve frowned. “Not sure, he just said he needs my help with something. Listen Y/N, I’ll catch up with you later, I’m just—"

_“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes requires immediate medical assistance in the men’s lavatory on the penthouse level. He is experiencing a seizure, and his vitals are erratic. I’ve notified Dr. Cho, and she is on her way.”_

JARVIS’s voice suddenly cut him off, and he stared as the elevator was re-routed to the top floor. The two super soldiers looked at each other in shock, both willing the elevator to move faster.

The doors dinged open and Y/N sprinted to the bathroom, shouldering the door open. She cried out when she saw him.

“Bucky!”

Bucky was lying on his side, convulsing on the floor. Steve could see his eyes were half-open, but they had rolled back until only the whites showed. His hands were clenched and the cords in his neck stood out as he made a low keening sound. And there was blood—a lot of it.

Steve and Y/N dropped to their knees beside him, and he saw the blood was coming from a large gash across Bucky’s temple as Y/N lifted his head gently to place a towel under it. Her face was white with horror and her eyes wide. Steve knew not to try to move Bucky too much, so he just braced his knees against Bucky’s shoulder so he wouldn’t roll onto his back and choke.

Y/N placed a light hand on Bucky’s back and leaned low over his ear as she softly talked to him.

“It’s okay Bucky, I’m right here. Steve and I are both here, we’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”

Her voice cracked, and Steve saw she was close to tears. He felt his own eyes burn—it was hard to watch.

The seizure didn’t last too long, and soon Bucky’s body relaxed and his eyes slid closed. 

“Bucky?” Y/N carefully cradled his head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair. “Bucky, love, can you hear me?”

Bucky didn’t respond, but Steve could see that he was already breathing easier.

Finally the elevator opened behind them and he felt Dr. Cho slide in next to him. Steve scooted back out of the way and motioned for Y/N to do the same. She fought him a little on it, but in the end she relented. Steve held her hand tightly in his; she was shaking slightly.

“How long did it last?” Helen asked, peering into Bucky’s eyes with a penlight.

“I-I’m not sure, a couple of minutes, maybe?”

Helen nodded. She had pulled up Bucky’s shirt, and was listening to his heart and lungs. Steve blanched when he saw the blood on his lips.

Y/N saw it too. “There’s blood in his mouth,” she said quietly.

“Looks like he bit his tongue, it’s not too bad. That head wound needs attention though.” Helen rocked back on her heels and motioned for the medical crew to enter with the gurney.

“He’s stable now, let’s get him down to medical. I want an IV started and full monitoring, and we’ll need to use the restraints just in case this episode triggered a relapse.”

Steve and Y/N stood and got out of the way to let the medics work. He looked in the doorway and saw Tony standing there looking shocked and a little apprehensive.

“I-Is he going to be okay?” Y/N asked.

Steve looked down at her. She was blinking back tears, and it looked like she was restraining herself from running to Bucky. Steve pulled her into his arms.

“Buck’s gonna be fine. He’s had these before, it’s just been a while.”

_Never this bad, though._

Steve looked over at Tony. “Do we know what caused it?”

He shook his head, but his eyes told him something else. Tony then looked over at Y/N, and Steve’s stomach sank; he had a feeling the “problem” Tony had wanted to talk to him about concerned Bucky and Y/N.

And whatever it was, it was bad enough to have caused this.

***

“How is he?”

Steve and Tony were standing outside Bucky’s hospital room, watching through the glass as Helen came up next to him. Y/N was inside, sitting next to the bed and holding Bucky’s hand as he slept.

“He’s stable but still unconscious, and he may be for some time,” Helen said. “He has a concussion, and the laceration to his head was deep but will heal nicely. He did bite his tongue during the seizure, but that will heal as well.”

She nodded towards the figure in the bed.

“Whatever triggered the memory must have been very upsetting, because JARVIS reports that Sergeant Barnes had a violent panic attack just prior to the onset of the seizure. His mental state and vitals were already deteriorating, and this would have heightened its intensity.”

Steve saw Tony’s jaw tighten, and they shared a look. Helen continued to speak.

“We’re going to keep him under observation for a while, even after he regains consciousness. He’ll make a full recovery, but I’m a little concerned at his point. If this happens again we may need to look at medication to control the seizures, which is going to be difficult given his metabolism.”

“Thank you Helen,” Tony said.

She nodded and smiled sadly, and the two men watched her leave. Once she was out of earshot, Steve spoke up.

“All right Tony, what happened?”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “Tech finished their decryption of the Hydra files, I had them on my desk when Barnes came up. We were both looking at them, I wasn’t paying too much attention to him until he got up suddenly and left the room. Didn’t say a word.”

“What file was he looking at?”

“Y/N’s.”

“I-I don’t understand, what was in there?”

Tony shook his head. “Everything. Mission logs, kill counts, medical data—including genetic history and DNA testing.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Tony cut him off.

“We know why they took her. They took her because she’s related to you.”

“Wha-what?”

“Y/N’s mother—her maiden name was Rogers. She was your father’s only sister. As of 1968 you were still trapped under the ice, and Y/N…she was the last member of the Rogers bloodline.”

Steve just stared at him.

“Apparently the Doctor that took over Arnim Zola’s research narrowed down Erskine’s success to your to cellular adhesion with the formula. Meaning your genetics were perfectly matched to the serum. Your mother didn’t have any siblings and neither did you, so Y/N was the only candidate they could find.”

“Why me? What does this have to do with genetics?”

“I don’t know, something about the way your DNA bonded so perfectly with the serum. Doctor List had found a way to improve Zola’s formula…they were trying to re-create _you_.”

Steve’s head was spinning. Y/N was his cousin. He felt conflicting emotions of warmth and horror—warmth that he actually had another relative, and horror that it was that very reason that placed her in the hands of Hydra. Still, it didn’t make sense.

“So…that’s what got Bucky so upset?”

Tony’s silence caught his attention, and Steve looked up. Tony was staring through the glass, his expression pained. His mouth thinned, and he closed his eyes tiredly.

“The Winter Soldier killed her parents, Steve. He killed John, and probably his whole squad,” Tony said softly. He looked up at Steve grimly. “The Winter Soldier brought her to Hydra.”

Steve swallowed thickly. It made sense, it really did, but he didn’t want to believe it.

“A-Are you sure?” he croaked.

“Very. It’s right there in the files. Barnes was looking at old surveillance photographs of her when he freaked out.”

“This is going to destroy him…this is going to destroy _her_.” Steve drew in a shaky breath, consumed with worry for his friends.

“What are we going to do?”

***

Bucky was a large man, over six feet of solid muscle, but in that bed he looked so small. You sat by his side, listening to the monitors and watching him sleep.

You took his hand, the flesh one, and you were startled by how cold it was. Bucky always ran hot—you both did, but right now his hand was like ice. You held it as you ran your thumb over his knuckles; his fingers were long and surprisingly delicate for a man who worked with his hands so much.

Bucky was very pale, and the dark smudges under his eyes stood out in sharp contrast. He looked sick. There was still some dried blood in his hair near his temple, and you could see where they had stitched the gash closed. You released his hand and got up, getting some water and a cloth from the bathroom. Carefully dodging the machines and wires, you sat on the bed next to him and gently washed the blood from his face and hair.

Bucky slept for two days.

At the end of the second day Steve walked into the room and made you leave.

For two days you had barely eaten, barely slept. You refused to leave his side in case he woke up—you didn’t want him to be scared. You talked to him and even sang to him, but it was all just to keep your mind busy, because you were terrified.

Bucky was always the strong one, holding you up and keeping you safe. He seemed invincible, and seeing him like this—weak and scared, lying in a hospital bed, seeing the man you loved writhe on the floor in pain—had scared you deeply. Steve said he didn’t know what had triggered him, but you knew it had to be bad.

Whatever it was, you would get through it together. It was your turn to help him now—Bucky needed you.

“Y/N.”

Steve called to you softly from the doorway, but you ignored him.

“Y/N, you have to get some rest. I’ll sit with him for a while.”

“I’m not leaving him, Steve.”

You looked up at him and saw he wasn’t alone. Nat and Bruce were standing there too, looking concerned.

“It’s not a suggestion, Y/N. You need to eat, you need to shower, and you need to rest,” Nat said, and her tone told you she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Bruce stepped in the room and gently took your arm. “C’mon Y/N, Steve is going to be right there with Bucky the whole time. You’re no good to him if you neglect yourself.”

Bruce was probably the only person who could have gotten you out of that room, and he knew it. Reluctantly you bent down over Bucky’s still form, leaving a lingering kiss to his temple.

“I love you Bucky, I’ll be back soon,” you whispered.

You stood and allowed yourself to be led from the room, feeling dead on your feet and sick to your stomach. Steve gripped your shoulder as you passed, and you saw him walk into the room and sit down in the chair you had just vacated.

***

Bucky came to slowly, like a swimmer emerging from the murky depths. One by one his senses returned. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt sluggish and his head was pounding, keeping time with the incessant beeping he could hear. A sharp antiseptic smell washed over him. He tried to move his arms, but they didn’t want to cooperate either.

In his mind he held the memory of smoke and pine, gunpowder and the whine of insects, the soft creak of vinyl. He wasn’t sure why, but those thoughts terrified him.

_Something bad. Something bad’s happened._

He finally managed to get his eyes open, blinking in confusion as his vision swam. The room was dim, but he could still make out the machines next to the bed. He felt the cool rush of oxygen under his nose. He felt a stinging sensation in his right hand. Bucky looked down and saw that not only was there an IV in his hand, but he was also strapped to the bed.

Hydra. Somehow they had found him.

_No. No, no, please not again, how did they—oh God, no!_

Bucky flailed against the restraints as his heart kicked into overdrive, sending the monitors into a frenzy. He detected swift movement out of the corner of his eye, and he instinctively flinched away, completely powerless to defend himself.

“Bucky! Bucky, it’s okay. You’re all right. You’re in the Tower, you’re safe.”

He froze, breathing heavily. Steve was leaning over him, his eyes wide with concern. Bucky let out a choked noise and a large hand settled on his shoulder, calming him.

“S-Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck, it’s me.”

Bucky groaned and sank back against the bed. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, squeezing his eyes shut as it felt like his skull was about to split in two.

“H-How’d I get here? Why’m I…” He tugged on the restraints.

“I’m sorry Buck, that was my call. You had a seizure, a pretty bad one. JARVIS alerted us and we found you passed out on the floor of the bathroom, you must have hit your head on the way down.”

Well that explained the headache. Bucky tried to raise his arm to feel the side of his head but remembered the restraints on his wrists.

“You lost a bit of blood and you’ve been out for a while, we weren’t sure if you were relapsing or if you were going to remember who you were when you woke up. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Bucky swallowed and he coughed, wincing at the dryness of his throat. Steve plucked a glass of water from the table and held it to his lips, helping him drink. He fell back against the pillow, his eyes closing as a wave of exhaustion and nausea hit him. He felt so small, so weak…all he wanted was Y/N, her warm hands and soothing voice comforting him.

“Y/N…where’s Y/N?”

“I made her leave, she’s a wreck right now. She’s been here with you the entire time, refused to leave your side, but I made Nat and Bruce take her up to the apartment to eat and rest. She’s worried sick about you.”

Bucky felt awful for scaring her so badly, but he was glad her friends were with her now and she was getting some rest too.

“How long was I out?” His voice sounded thick in his ears, but at least he wasn’t slurring as badly anymore.

“A couple days.” Steve hesitated, and he looked at Bucky intently. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bucky closed his eyes wearily—god, his head hurt. His brow furrowed as he tried to think.

“Um, I remember waking up with Y/N, and we had breakfast. I don’t…it’s a little fuzzy after that, but I remember…a meeting? There were files and…and pictures, and—”

The pictures.

Suddenly, it all came flooding back to him. What he remembered.

What he had done.

“Oh, god—”

“Buck? Bucky, what’s wrong? Do you need—”

“Steve, I…I…”

Bucky couldn’t finish his sentence. He began to tremble again, and Steve looked at him in alarm as his heartrate began to pick up.

“Just hold on, I’ll get Dr. Cho for you.

“I did it. It was me.”

It was spoken so quietly, but the words halted Steve in his tracks. He paused for a moment, then lowered his head. When he turned, Bucky could see the tortured look in his eyes.

Steve knew.

The panic from before was gone, and in its place came a horrifying darkness. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry—he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

Y/N. His sweet Y/N.

He could still feel the way her head snapped back when he hit her, and the way her body hung limply in his arms. Her blood was on his hands. He could still hear the sound of her parents’ necks breaking, and he could still see John’s eyes staring sightlessly up at him.

The monster. The weapon.

The murderer.

Bucky closed his eyes again. He couldn’t bear to look at Steve’s pitying face right now.

“Y/N. Does she know?”

Steve was silent for a long moment, and he sat back down in the chair.

“No. I didn’t…Tony and I, we’re the only ones right now, and we…we wanted to wait until…”

Bucky didn’t say anything else. He just lay there, his thoughts spiraling down into the blackness.

“I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do or not Bucky, we just…we just figured it would be better coming from you. Once you’ve gotten your strength back.”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything,” he whispered.

“What doesn’t?”

Bucky sighed. “It doesn’t matter when she hears it, or who she hears it from. It doesn’t change what I did.”

“Bucky, it wasn’t yo—”

“Wasn’t me? I wasn’t in control? It doesn’t matter, I still did it. I killed them. All of them. Y/N’s mother, her father. J-John…his whole fucking squad,” Bucky blinked back the tears that were starting to come. “I…I killed them _all_. Y/N, I…I drugged her and beat her and I took her straight to that monster. I did that. It was _me_.”

“Bucky—”

“Go. Just go, Steve. And keep Y/N away, I can’t…I can’t…”

Bucky started to cry, the tears flowing freely now. He tried to turn away, to curl in a ball—anything to ease the pain in his chest—but the restraints wouldn’t let him. Steve put a soothing hand on his shoulder and Bucky flinched away. He didn’t want comfort right now, and he certainly didn’t want Steve’s sympathy or pity.

He didn’t deserve it.

Steve pulled his hand back and hung his head. He stayed there with him until Bucky began to quiet, lapsing into a moody silence once more. The two men sat in silence for a long time, the only sound the steady beep of the monitors.

Finally, Steve sighed and reached into his pocket, withdrawing the key to the restraints.

“If I let you go, are you going to hurt yourself?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

Bucky was so tired. Tired and heartsick, he just wanted to sleep and pretend this was all a bad dream. He felt the restraints loosen, and he rolled over on his side away from Steve.

“Please Steve, just leave me alone. Don’t let Y/N in here, I can’t bear it right now.”

“Okay Buck. I’ll…just go see what I can do about getting you out of here.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, and Steve took that as his cue to leave. The door shut behind him, and Bucky was alone.

He replayed the memories in his head, partly to analyze them, and partly to hurt himself. And oh god, how they hurt.

He reached up to his face and felt just above his eyebrow. There was a little scar there, and now he knew where it came from.

Y/N had given it to him, all those years ago.

_Yes, well, I’ve given her a few scars of her own._

He thought back to the first time he saw her in the bath. All those scars. The torture she endured, all because of him. She had been innocence itself, plucked from her life and thrust into his dark underworld, defiled in the worst way. And he had delivered her right to them.

Just like a good little Soldat.

Bucky looked down at his hands. The hands that had held her and comforted her, the hands that had touched her and caressed her while they made love…they were the same hands that had taken everything away from her.

There was a light tapping sound on the door, and it slowly opened. Bucky closed his eyes—he knew who it was without even looking. Of course Steve wouldn’t listen to him.

“Bucky?”

Her sweet voice was so soft and full of worry he felt the tears well up all over again. She was worried about him. Of course she was.

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned his head away from the door in despair.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Angst, Panic Attack, Depression, References to a Murder, Graphic Violence, Bucky being (kind of) a jerk
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

You turned the shower off and reached for a towel. It felt good to be clean and have something in your stomach, but you were still anxious to get back to Bucky. Maybe you could convince Steve to let you sleep in the chair by the bed.

Speaking of Steve…

Outside the bathroom door you heard hushed voices—Nat and Steve. What was he doing up here, he was supposed to be sitting with Bucky. Your face flushed in irritation as you stepped closer to the door to hear what they were saying. They were trying to speak quietly, but your enhanced hearing picked their conversation up without a problem.

“—long do you think you can keep her away? She’s very protective of him, and if you lie to her or tell her he doesn’t want to see her, she’ll just worry.”

“What would you have me do, Nat? Bucky doesn’t want me to let her in there, and I honestly don’t think he’s in any condition for a confrontation with her right now anyway.”

“Tell her the truth. Tell her what you found out, and give them both some time to process it.”

“No. It’s not my place. Bucky should be the one to tell her—”

You pulled back from the door, your head spinning. Bucky was awake—why didn’t they tell you? He doesn’t want to see you? What happened? What did you do? What didn’t Steve want you to know?

You sat down heavily, your mind turning. Of course, hearing that only made you more frantic to go to Bucky. It sounded like he was in trouble—he was hurting and something was wrong. Why on earth would Steve think you would be angry with Bucky…or get in a “confrontation,” as he put it.

The door to the apartment opened and shut, and you could tell Nat was alone out in the living room again. You shoved all your anxieties and questions down, and put on your best sleepy face.

“Hey, feeling any better?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m really tired now though, I think I’m gonna lay down for a bit. Have you heard anything more about Bucky?”

Nat shook her head. “No, he still hasn’t woken up.”

That was a lie.

You responded with an appropriate expression, while your insides churned with worry for Bucky and irritation at being lied to. Then again, you were lying to her too. An epic dance of lies between two former assassins.

“You should get some sleep while you can, is there anything you need?”

You pretended to look around the room. “Uh, yeah. I can’t find my iPod, and I think I left it up on the piano. I wanted to listen to some music before I fell asleep…help me relax.”

You started for the door, but Nat cut you off. “I’ll get it, you just go lay down.”

“Yes, mother,” you said, smirking as she turned you around and gave you a light shove towards the bedroom.

You waited for a few minutes after she left, giving her time to get to the elevators. Breathing a sigh of relief when you opened the door to an empty hallway, you quickly made your way to the back stairwell. You had to get to Bucky, you _had_ to see him. Hearing their conversation had only made you more anxious.

You made it to the stairwell, and descended to the medical level, taking the steps two at a time. Once again, your luck held and the corridor was empty. You were just about to enter the med center when you heard a throat clear behind you.

“Y/N.”

You turned and braced yourself for a lecture and more lies, but Steve was just standing there, looking at you apprehensively.

“Nat said you were on your way down. She also said to tell you nice try.”

You ignored the barb. “I want to see him.”

Steve sighed and crossed his arms, staring at the floor before glancing up at you. “Bucky asked me not to let you in. He doesn’t want to see—”

“I know that Steve, did you really think I couldn’t hear you and Nat talking?” Now you were starting to get angry. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me he was awake? Is he okay, did something happe—”

Steve raised his hands to stop your onslaught. “He’s okay, his head’s hurting him pretty bad and he’s weak, but he’s going to be fine…physically. Um, there were just some…intense things he remembered, and he’s a little upset right now—”

“Which is why I need to be there for him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

Something about the way he said it made your blood run cold.

“What aren’t you telling me, Steve?” you whispered.

Steve didn’t say anything, he just bit his lip and stared at the ground. You huffed and started to walk around him, and he stepped in front of you.

“Get out of my way, Steve. I may not be able to kick your ass, but you know I’ll give you a run for your money.”

Steve still didn’t move, but his shoulders slumped. “It’s not my place to tell you, Y/N. This should be between you and Bucky, and I just don’t think that he’s in any condition to handle this right now.”

You really couldn’t stay mad at Steve for long—he was just trying to look out for you and Bucky. You reached out and took his hand.

“Please don’t keep me away from him. As bad as this might be, after everything we’ve been through, I know we’ll get through this too. I love him Steve, and if he’s hurting right now I need to be with him. Please don’t keep me away.”

Steve looked at you, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours. Finally, he stepped aside.

“Thank you, Steve.”

You started to move past him, but he gripped your hand tighter.

“Y/N…remember what you just said to me when he tells you. I know it’s not going to be easy, but please…remember what you just said. Don’t be—” he cut himself off, pursing his lips and hanging his head.

Steve released your hand. You watched as he slowly walked away, a sense of dread building. A few steps and you were at the door to Bucky’s room, and you knocked softly as you eased the door open.

You were shocked at his appearance. If anything, he looked even worse than when you left him, and your heart clenched when you saw he had been crying. Bucky seemed to have aged ten years; his eyes were closed and he seemed thinner somehow, his deathly pallor making the dark circles under his eyes stand out. Even his lips had lost their color.

You felt like you were looking at an empty shell.

“Bucky?”

He didn’t open his eyes, but at the sound of your voice he turned, rolling away from you. Hesitantly, you took a step towards him.

“Bucky, it’s me, Y/N. H-How are you feeling…are you in pain?”

He didn’t say a word. He just lay there, curled on his side, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. It broke your heart to see him this way.

“Bucky, please talk to me…Steve said you didn’t want to see me, and I…I don’t understand. What happened?” Bucky didn’t answer, and you walked closer to his bedside. “Please, just look at me.”

Nothing. The heart monitor started to increase its tempo, so you knew he heard you. Still, he refused to talk to you—he wouldn’t even look at you.

“Bucky, you’re scaring me.”

You sat on the bed next to him and reached out a hand, placing it on his shoulder. Bucky recoiled from your touch.

“Don’t touch me.”

His voice was hoarse and lifeless. You withdrew your hand, and your eyes started to burn.

“Bucky, please—”

“D-Don’t touch me, I can’t bear it, I…”

Bucky rolled over and finally looked at you. His eyes, usually the brightest blue, were now the dullest grey. They were haunted and glassy with tears, and the depth of agony you saw there killed you. You wanted to draw him into your arms and hold him close, but instead you sank into the chair next to the bed, fingers twitching as you fought the urge to take his hand.

One step at a time.

“Please, talk to me. Whatever it is, we can—”

“I am _so_ sorry, Y/N.” Bucky cut you off, and you felt the weight of every word. “For everything I’m about to tell you, for every way I’ve hurt you in the past and for every way I’m about to hurt you now, please know that I am drowning in regret for everything I’ve done. For everything I am.”

You simply stared at him, your heart breaking with every word.

“I should have guessed…I should have _known_ , long before now that someone like you didn’t belong with someone like me. You were my angel, Y/N,” he smiled sadly up at you, and his knuckles briefly brushed yours before the smile disappeared. “but I’m a monster…and angels aren’t meant for monsters.”

“Bucky…”

“I killed your parents, Y/N.” Bucky paused, he closed his eyes as if each word was costing him dearly. “I killed your husband, John. I killed his whole squad, just so there weren’t any witnesses. I’m the one who took you. I brought you to Hydra. It was me, all along.”

The color drained from your face. It couldn’t be true.

“Bucky, no. It wasn’t you—”

“Yes. It was.” Bucky stared at you, as if he didn’t understand why you didn’t believe him. “How many missions have you been on with me? You knew me as the Asset. The Soldat. You know what I’m capable of.”

This was all wrong. He was confused, disoriented—you remembered how you felt after waking up from an episode, and you knew his head had to be hurting, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He was mixing up memories from past missions and had somehow convinced himself he had been the one. They didn’t even know what had triggered him—that’s what Tony said. Just that morning he had been fine.

You shook your head. It wasn’t true, you would have remembered it. You would have known. Bucky was hurting right now, and he needed you to help him through this.

“Bucky, sweetheart, you’re sick. The seizure was really bad, and you’re…you’re just confused. It’s okay, I’m here now, and we’re going to get through this together. It’s going to be okay.”

You reached up a hand to brush back his hair—Bucky loved it when you ran your fingers through his hair—but he grabbed your hand, stopping you. His grip was firm, and pain and something like anger flashed across his eyes.

“Don’t.”

“Bucky please, don’t shut me out. I love you—”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky clenched his jaw, and his eyes started to water. “You don’t love someone who murders your family.”

“Bucky it’s not true, you didn’t—”

“What is so hard to understand, Y/N?” Bucky snapped. He was starting to get angry now. “You really don’t believe me? Go look at the files, it’s all there. Dates, mission records, surveillance photos…it’s all right there. Think, Y/N—really try to remember. Deep down, I _know_ you know it’s true.”

“Bucky, I know you’re hurting right now and the memories were bad, but this isn’t real. Just calm down, stay here with me. Don’t push me away Bucky, I love—"

“Don’t you fucking get it?!” he shouted. “I _murdered_ your parents! I _murdered_ your husband! I abducted you and beat you and brought you right to them. Me. It was me. I’m a monster.”

You flinched at his outburst, shocked by the ferocity of his anger. You just sat there and stared at him, and when you didn’t say anything it seemed to upset him more.

“You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you?” he asked harshly. “Fine. I _killed_ your parents. I took their necks and I snapped them, placed them side by side in bed. Then I doused your house in kerosene and I burnt it down. The fire department called it faulty wiring but it was me…it was all me. I stood in the woods near your house and I watched it burn.

You felt sick. “Bucky, please…”

“John. Your husband.” Bucky laughed, a low and cold sound, wholly unlike him.

“Bucky, stop—”

“No. No, you need to know what kind of monster you’re dealing with. You need to _understand_ what I’ve done to you.”

Bucky took a shuddering breath and continued.

“I killed him too,” he confessed. “Shot him in the head—at least it was quick. Then I killed his whole squad so there wouldn’t be any witnesses. Staged it to look like a VC ambush.”

His voice held a cruel edge, but it wasn’t directed at you anymore—it was directed at himself. The tears were falling now, and Bucky’s chin quivered as he continued.

“And you. I drugged you and took you away from everything you knew and loved, and when you tried to fight back, I beat you. I knocked you senseless, and then I tied you up and drugged you again, just to make sure. And then I took you to them, where they tortured you and tore you apart piece by piece until there was nothing left. And when they were done, they used what was left to do terrible things.”

Bucky looked up at you, tears streaming down his face. All his anger was gone now, replaced with a black misery.

“ _That’s_ what I did to you.”

You sat there, stunned into silence by his outburst. Your mind whirled, drawing forth bits and pieces. Flashes of memory.

A vicelike hand around your arm, the glint of metal in the dark.

Long chestnut hair, the sting of a needle in your neck.

A black leather jacket and gloves.

_“Good work, Soldat. Proceed with the mission.”_

Your eyes widened in horrified understanding.

“There it is.”

His voice was barely above a whisper as he saw you finally believe him. You looked down at him and started to tremble. His eyes were cold and lifeless—they were the eyes of the Asset.

The color drained from your face. There suddenly didn’t seem to be enough air in the room, the walls closing in around you. You stood up and backed away from the bed, knocking the chair over in your haste. The Asset just stared at you.

You couldn’t breathe.

You had to get out of there.

You backed towards the door on legs that felt like jelly, fumbling for the doorknob. The man in the bed closed his eyes wearily as the door swung shut and your footsteps retreated down the hall.

***

Steve found you curled up under the piano.

You didn’t remember much after your panicked exit from Bucky’s room. Over and over, Bucky’s horrifying confession played in your head. You couldn’t even think straight, and for the longest time you just lay there on the floor, sobbing like a child.

John. He had been murdered because of you, less than a month before he was supposed to come home. He had died in that hell hole, and not even for the reason he was there in the first place. You still loved him, even after all the years of forgetting, and hearing how he died tore you apart.

Your parents. They had been killed because of you, too. Bucky’s words replayed in your head, but they brought you a small measure of comfort—at least they hadn’t been alive when the fire started.

You felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest. All the pain and anger you had felt after hearing about your family’s deaths was fresh again, and the gaping hole left felt just as raw and as bloody as before. Maybe even more so, because it was your lover that had been forced to do it, and hearing the gruesome details of their murders spill from his lips made it all the more real and raw.

It wasn’t Bucky, it was the Winter Soldier that had done all those horrible things. You knew that and understood the duplicity of it better than anyone. How many atrocities had you committed? How many parents and brothers and husbands had _you_ killed?

It wasn’t Bucky, he hadn’t been in control, but it was his hands that had killed. The same hands that had caressed and comforted you. It was his body that was used, turned into a weapon to murder your family and take you away from them.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Steve’s soft voice broke through your thoughts, and you shook your head. He crouched down and gently pulled you out from under the piano. He wrapped his arms around you, and he leaned back against the wall as you curled into him.

“How’s Bucky? Is he…is he okay?” Your voice shook, and Steve’s arms tightened around you.

“He’s…about as good as can be expected. Helen’s releasing him tomorrow night, just they want to keep him under observation because of how bad the seizure was. Physically he’s okay, he’s just exhausted.”

Steve took a deep breath, scrubbing at his hair. “Mentally, I don’t know. He won’t talk to me, he just lays there. Won’t say a word.”

“He blames himself,” you whispered.

“And you don’t?”

It wasn’t a challenge. You knew Steve didn’t think of it that way—he seemed honestly surprised that you didn’t, though.

“Of course not Steve, how could I? We’re the same, him and I, and if I blame him I need to own every horrible thing I’ve ever done. If I blame him for this, I’m condemning him for everything else that the Winter Soldier has ever done. How could I do that to him?”

You buried your face in his chest, the tears spilling over again. “I still love him Steve, I never stopped. I just don’t know what to do.”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just continued to hold you as you cried, and you felt his cheek press against the top of your head. You felt like you were shaking apart, and he was the only thing holding you together.

“It was so horrible. At first I just didn’t understand, I don’t think I wanted to. I thought he was just confused, and then he got so angry when I wouldn’t listen to him. He was just…he looked so lost and hurt. He was in so much pain, I hated to see him like that—how much he hated himself for something that wasn’t even his fault.”

You would never forget the look on Bucky’s face, not for as long as you lived. The guilt and remorse, the horror and self-loathing, the pain and the longing. Yes, longing—longing for your touch, your comfort, your forgiveness and understanding, but not believing he was worthy of any of it.

You had already forgiven him—in truth, there wasn’t anything to forgive. But you knew Bucky wouldn’t see it that way. He would never forgive himself.

You closed your eyes as the tears fell again. You didn’t think you had anymore left to give. Bucky was slipping away—you were losing him, and you didn’t know what to do.

How were you ever going to get past this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we've gotten her reaction to the news, I can't say that the situation was handled very well by any of them. Bucky was kind of a jerk to her, but he was in a very dark place and she pushed him over the edge when she refused to believe him. Steve never should have let her in there to begin with, he should have listened to Nat and just told her the truth himself. But hey--Steve isn't good with feelings. Now they're going to have to deal with the fallout, I think most people guessed that she would be more willing to forgive Bucky that he would be. We'll have to see what she does when she finds out why she was taken and sees the files herself, and whether or not Bucky continues to push her away.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your comments and kudos, I'm blown away at the amount of support this fic has gotten so far. It seriously makes my day--thank you!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts/Idealization, Angst, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**Avengers Tower - Four Days Later**

Bucky lay curled on his side, the covers wrapped tight and drawn up over his head. It was soothing. He had been discharged from medical three days ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to return to the apartment he shared with Y/N. Instead, he had taken a room down at the end of the hall—one of the ones set aside for new recruits. It was small and bare and depressing, and it suited him just fine.

Bucky hadn’t done much since leaving medical. Helen had made some follow-up appointments for him, but he wasn’t going to go. He didn’t care. It wasn’t like he even had the energy to get out of bed, anyway. Bucky just lay there and thought about Y/N, torturing himself with the memory of her.

He thought about how her fingers felt running through his hair as she held him after a nightmare, helping him chase away the demons. He thought about the sound of her heartbeat, fluttering away under his cheek as he breathed her in, a reminder that they were still human. He thought about the night she told him she loved him, and that night up on the roof when she said she wanted to build a life together. He thought about everything that came after, how they lay intertwined on the bed, their skin rosy with afterglow.

And then once the memories started to make him smile, he thought about how he murdered her family and brought her to Hydra. He should have just killed her too—it would have been kinder.

Bucky thought about everything and nothing, but most of all he just wished he were dead. Or better yet, that he had never survived the fall from the train.

He supposed he was still alive, technically. His heart was still beating, he was still breathing. Steve came and went, making him eat, forcing him to take a shower under threat of getting in there and doing it for him. God knows how many people had seen him naked, but even as far gone as he was, there were still a few things Bucky wouldn’t tolerate.

Steve tried to talk to him, and Bucky knew the silence was hurting him. He _couldn’t_ talk to him, though—Steve just didn’t understand. He’d always been the golden boy, Captain America, the man with a fucking plan. He’d never had to wake up seeing the ghosts of his victims, their screams still echoing through his brain. He’d never had to look his lover in the eye and tell her he had killed her family and destroyed her life.

Steve didn’t understand why Bucky just couldn’t let it go. 

He wouldn’t talk to Steve, but he let him have his way as he guided Bucky through the motions of living. Bucky let him, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do.

Nat had come too, although her approach was more heavy-handed than Steve’s. For a while, it had been the old Natalia from the Red Room, and she had all but kicked his ass to get him to talk to her.

She brought the files with her, and she had shown him how similar they were. Everything he had done, Y/N had too. She showed him they were both victims, and she said she understood how he felt. She talked about having red her ledger, just like him, and how guilt and remorse would slowly kill him, and how it would hurt his friends and loved ones. Bucky listened but he didn’t care. He was dead inside already.

She told him that Y/N didn’t hate him; she understood and she even wanted to talk to him. Bucky already knew that—he had heard Y/N knocking on his door, calling to him. She had even kicked it at one point, but he didn’t let her in. He had to protect her from himself.

Bucky didn’t want her understanding or her forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it. His heart ached for her, and he would give anything to take back what he had done, just to be with her again.

He knew that would never happen, though—even if she forgave him, who would want to live with a daily reminder of all the pain and suffering they had been through? Who would want to live with the man who murdered their family? The only reason they had _any_ history together was because he put here there in the first place—he made her into what she is.

Nat had told him one interesting thing, though. Apparently, the reason Y/N had been chosen for the program in the first place was because she was directly related to Steve. She was his cousin, although it was on his father’s side and the family hadn’t communicated much after his father’s death. Bucky was glad—not that she was chosen because of her relation to Steve, but he was glad that they both had each other. They had family.

It would help after he was gone.

Bucky wasn’t going to kill himself, not here at least—he didn’t want his friends to find him like that. He still loved Y/N, so much it made him physically sick, and he couldn’t imagine putting her through that on top of everything else. Or Steve; after everything Steve had done for him, he didn’t want to throw it all away. He wanted his death to have meaning. He wanted to do something good for once, with whatever time he had left.

Of everything Bucky thought about, he thought about Strucker the most. He thought about the torture and the beatings, the pain and the humiliation, the mission objectives and the mind wipes. He remembered standing back to back with Y/N, trying to protect each other from the Handlers until it was just too much. He could still see the look in her eyes as she was dragged away from him. He could still hear her screams.

It all boiled down to one man, really, and Bucky would make him pay.

He wouldn’t stop with just him, either. Oh no—he would work his way from Base to Base, extinguishing the flame of Hydra until they put him down like the rabid dog he was.

Bucky pulled back the covers and slowly stood, giving himself a second to adjust after being in bed for so long. Then he moved into the bathroom to get ready, because he knew what he was going to do now.

He would become the monster, the Winter Soldier—only this time _he_ would be in control.

He would be their worst nightmare.

The Winter Soldier would kill them all until he finally couldn’t anymore, until they put him out of his misery and ended him.

Bucky took his time in the shower—it was probably the last one he would have for a while. He got out, toweling his long hair dry as he stood in front of the sink. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, but the man there was a stranger to him. He was pale, hair unkempt and dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes, almost a week’s worth of growth on his chin working its way towards a full beard.

It was like staring at a corpse, a far cry from the suave man who not too long ago was contemplating a marriage proposal.

Bucky took his time as he shaved, too. He even brushed his teeth and his hair before slowly pulling on his uniform. Then he packed a few of his meager belongings in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He left the notebooks—he didn’t need them anymore.

Briefly, he considered writing Y/N a letter. He wanted to tell her one last time how much he loved her and how sorry he was for everything. He didn’t though. If she even still cared, she already knew, and the letter wasn’t necessary. If she didn’t, then it would only hurt her more.

His actions—those would be his love letter to her.

Bucky shut the door softly behind him. It was very late, and the corridor was deserted as he made his way towards the elevators. He paused for a moment outside their old apartment, knowing Y/N was sleeping just inside. Just a single closed door separated them. Bucky lightly placed his hand on the door and closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel his grief one last time before he stuffed it down as far as it would go.

“Goodbye, Y/N…I love you.”

Then he straightened, his face a blank slate once again. He walked down the hall without looking back, into the elevators and up to the flight deck where the Quinjets waited. The elevators opened to pouring rain, and he lowered his head against the onslaught as he walked towards the nearest one. The rain was falling so hard he didn’t even notice the tracking device laying on the tarmac as he punched the code to lower the ramp.

He was halfway up the ramp when he realized someone was already inside, seated at the controls. Then he caught a hint of her scent, the sweet smell of her shampoo.

Slowly he raised his head, and he stared at her.

***

**Avengers Tower - Four Hours Earlier**

“Bucky, I know you can hear me, please open the door.”

You were standing outside the room he had taken down at the end of the hall, your forehead pressed to the door in frustration.

“Please. Talk to me. I’m not angry at you or afraid of you, I…I just want to _talk_ with you. I miss you, please don’t shut me out.”

Nothing. You felt your eyes start to burn and your voice broke.

“You promised, Bucky. You promised me that you would never leave me—how can you possibly think that this isn’t hurting me right now?”

_“I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N, but Sergeant Barnes has enabled the room’s soundproofing function.”_

You clenched your eyes shut, and you ground your teeth in frustration.

“There isn’t a chance you’d open the door for me, is there JARVIS?”

_“I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N, but you do not have security override clearance.”_

You growled and rammed your fist into the door, hard enough to leave a dent. Bucky definitely heard _that_ , but the door remained closed. Defeated once again, you slowly walked back to your room, your heart breaking even further with each step.

Bucky wouldn’t talk to you. He wouldn’t even see you, and it was tearing you apart. You had regular reports from Steve, who seemed to be the only person Bucky allowed inside.

_“How is he?”_

_Steve sighed, and the mask fell away. In that moment you could see how much the past few days had worn him down. He looked smaller, somehow, and with a fearful look that was strange on a face that was used to radiating confidence._

_“He sleeps, mostly. Or at least he pretends to when I’m there. He still won’t talk to me, but at least he’s eating, and I even got him to change his clothes and shower. It’s like we’re all the way back to square one, when he first came to the Tower, only this is…worse.”_

_“I’m worried about him Steve. I miss him.”_

_“I know. I’m worried about him too.”_

_“What else can we do? I swear to god I’d go down there and break that door down myself if I didn’t think it’d make matters worse.”_

_Steve wrapped an arm around you, his presence comforting. “He just needs some space to get his head wrapped around all this. Buck always was a brooder, and we just need to give him some time.”_

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

The tears began to fall as you opened the door to the apartment, the one you used to share with Bucky. It seemed like you hadn’t stopped crying since Steve had pulled you out from under the piano, and you were utterly exhausted.

You stood there, looking around at the apartment. Bucky was everywhere—his books were still sitting there on the bookshelf, his clothes were still hanging in the closet and folded neatly in the dresser. The pillow on your bed still smelled like him, and his favorite coffee cup still sat on the counter in the kitchenette. It was the one with the dirty curse words in Russian, the one Nat had gotten him as a joke, and you couldn’t bring yourself to even put it away.

Steve had come a couple days ago to check up on you and to let you know that Bucky was being discharged from medical. He came to tell you that, and to pick up some of Bucky’s things—Bucky was moving into one of the recruit rooms at the end of the hall. Basically, as far away from you as possible.

Since then, Steve had bounced back and forth between the two of you like a ping pong ball, making sure you were both okay. Nat and Tony had visited too, but Steve was your one constant. He was your shoulder to cry on, your willing ear as you poured out your frustration and worry. He was like the big brother you never had, and now you understood why.

You and Steve were related. _That_ was why you had been taken. You were shocked when he told you, of course, but mostly you just felt happy. Steve was already a good friend, and to find out that he was also family—that you actually had family left—was a relief.

Your gaze drifted over the files Steve had left—Hydra’s files, records for the two Assets. It was all true, everything Bucky had said. The files were hard to read, and not just the mission logs and their confirmation of his words. There were photographs, medical and maintenance logs, all typed out with a clinically cold precision made you want to scream.

It really brought home just how much you and Bucky had been dehumanized.

You sat at the desk and pulled out the photographs. Some were hard to look at—photographs of you both in cryostasis, undergoing a mind wipe—documentation of their experiments. You picked up one of you as the Asset. The cold emptiness in your eyes made you shiver…you didn’t even look like the same person.

More photographs. These were the surveillance photos that had pushed Bucky over the edge. You still held the memory of John and your parents in your mind, but these were the first photos you had seen of them other than John’s service photo, which had been archived in his military record. You smiled and ran your fingers lovingly over their surfaces, but the joy you felt quickly soured into grief.

You laid them out on the table in front of you and added the photograph Steve had given you of Bucky—the one of him in his army uniform. You wished you had a picture of him from that night on the roof. Bucky had never looked so happy, and you would give anything to see him like that again.

Your heart ached as you looked at the photos. Victims of Hydra. Each and every one of those lives had been destroyed—some thrown away like they were nothing, and some twisted into monstrosities that served Hydra’s purpose.

A cold fury settled over you as you looked at the photographs. Your blood began to boil, and your hands shook. Through it all, one name kept surfacing.

Strucker.

_“Oh my little sparrow, this is only the beginning. You are what we’ve been waiting for…the start of a new era. I imagine the process will be quite unpleasant, but you—you will become something magnificent. You will help shape the world.”_

You could still hear his haughty voice, dripping with both condescension and praise. You could still see the malicious gleam in his eye, his monocle catching the light. You could still feel his hands on you, gently tilting your head up so he could inspect his prize.

All the pain you endured, everything that had been taken from you—it was all because of him. And although he hadn’t made Bucky into the Winter Soldier, he still used him. Bucky was torturing himself, consumed with grief and remorse for something this man _made_ him do.

Strucker had used you both. He hurt you, and he made you kill for him. And when it became clear that you still retained a shred of your humanity, he tortured you and took you away from each other.

How many others came after you? He had been trying to recreate the Captain America formula—to create his own army of Winter Soldiers. How many others had been taken and unmade?

You were going to kill him.

For Bucky, for you, for your family…for all the others that had suffered, you were going to kill Strucker. And this time, you weren’t going to make it quick. By the time you were done with him, Wolfgang von Strucker would know just what sort of monster he had created.

You got up from your position on the floor and went to the wardrobe, pulling on your uniform, your hands shaking with rage. Closing the files and replacing them back on the desk, you saved the paper with the location of the Vault and shoved it in your pocket. It was the only Hydra location the Avengers had yet to explore, and it was as good a place to start as any.

You carefully gathered up the photos of your parents, John, and Bucky, and zipped them away in your breast pocket. The corridor was empty as you walked towards the elevators. You looked back at the closed door of the room you knew Bucky had taken, and you resisted the urge to turn and go to him.

He needed time, Steve said. He needed some space, and when this was over you would go to him, _make_ him open the door and hold him until he let you in. He would come back to you, he always did. No matter how hard it was, how much it hurt, you would always find each other. You would take your anger and vengeance out on the man who gave the orders, and then maybe Bucky would see it wasn’t his fault.

It was time to put an end to all this—it was time for you both to be free.

The elevators opened, and a driving rain lashed at your uniform as you strode purposefully towards the Quinjet. You opened the ramp and threw your bag inside, pausing for a moment out in the elements while you ripped open the housing for the tracking device. A quick pry and it was loose, and you dropped it on the tarmac before you entered the jet.

You didn’t want to be tracked. Every time the Avengers went after Strucker, he managed to slip away. There was always too many people, too much warning. This was a job for one person—someone who could slip in undetected—and you were just the person for the job.

After all, you were trained by the best.

“JARVIS, this is Y/N Y/L/N, requesting permission for takeoff. Clearance code NP2273.”

_“Permission has been granted, Miss Y/L/N.”_

“Let’s keep quiet on this one, JARVIS. Okay?”

Even though you had disabled the tracking, you didn’t want the AI blabbing to everyone that you had left. The last thing you needed was Bucky worrying—or even worse—him or Steve coming after you.

_“Very good, ma’am.”_

Your finger was poised over the main engine start button when you heard the whir of the ramp being lowered again. Heavy boots tromped up the ramp, and you spun in your seat and froze when you saw who it was.

Bucky.

His face was haggard but determined, and he was wearing his uniform, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He halted when he saw your bag on the deck, and slowly his head raised until his eyes met yours.

You felt as though the wind had been knocked out of you. You stood, holding his gaze as you took a couple steps towards him. Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line and he dropped his eyes, starting to turn away from you.

Suddenly, you recognized the look in Bucky’s eyes. He was leaving—he was going to do the same thing you were, only he didn’t have any intention of coming back.

Bucky started to move down the ramp, but you caught his arm. He flinched at your touch and pulled away from you, but you pulled harder, yanking him off his feet. Bucky stumbled back into the cargo hold as you positioned yourself in front of the exit.

His eyes met yours, and he was begging you to let him go. You couldn’t let that happen, though—how many times had he been taken from you? Too many to count.

You weren’t going to lose him again.

Bucky tried to move past you, ducking his shoulder to push you out of the way. You planted your hands on his chest and shoved. Bucky stumbled back again with a look of surprise as he hit the bulkhead with a loud thud. He saw the pleading look in your eyes and he shut his own tightly, clenching his jaw.

You reached for him, and he slapped your hand away. Bucky grabbed you by the shoulders as you took a step towards him and he shoved you, hard enough to knock you to the ground. He swiftly moved towards the exit, but you caught him by the ankle and tripped him, taking him down to the deck as well.

You both rose, breathing heavily, a thousand unspoken words passing between you. You needed him to stop, to just let you in, but Bucky wasn’t having it. He made a move towards the ramp again and you launched yourself forward at him. He tried to shove you away, but you caught his arms and wrapped your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could.

Bucky could have gotten free. You were using all of your strength, which was considerable, but you knew he was stronger. He briefly struggled, trying to break your hold, but you could see it was only a half-hearted attempt.

Gradually he stopped struggling and just stood there. Your faces were very close, yet he still wouldn’t look at you. You reached a hand up, half afraid he would bolt again, and you gently tilted his face until his eyes finally met yours.

For the longest time he just stared at you, and you were lost again in the endless depths of his blue eyes. You saw his resolve begin to falter, and you moved your hand from his chin to gently brush the hair back from his face.

Bucky’s gaze softened and his defenses crumbled completely. His chest began to heave as he collapsed in your arms, burying his face against your neck. His tears soaked your collar as your felt your own begin to fall.

You lowered yourself until you felt your knees hit the deck, taking Bucky with you. He pulled free from your embrace just enough to wrap his own arms around your middle, and he clutched at you like a drowning man as sobs wracked his body. You held him and gently rocked him back and forth as you cried your own tears of relief.

It felt so good to hold him again. The past few days had been horrible without him, and to feel him there was almost more than you could bear. His skin was warm and soft pressed against your neck, and his arms were strong enough to hold you together as you threatened to split apart. You weren’t sure how long you knelt there, or who was comforting whom, but eventually you pulled away just enough for you could see his face.

His eyes were bloodshot and watery, but he was _there_. He was looking at _you_. You brushed your fingers tenderly over his brow and down his face, cupping his jaw as he nuzzled into your touch. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes, bending forward until his forehead rested against yours.

You tilted your chin up, ghosting your lips over his. Bucky’s breathing hitched, and he trembled slightly.

Then his lips were crashing against yours in a passionate kiss. Bucky whimpered as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, and he pulled you closer. The intensity of the kiss tore at your soul, both of you pouring out all the emotions and heartache of the past few days. Your back slammed into the bulkhead, and you gripped his shoulders hard as his lips parted beneath yours.

Bucky held you tightly, as if he were afraid you would fade to ash in his arms. His kisses were desperate and needy but then again, so were yours. You moaned softly as his lips moved down your throat, his breath warm and fast in your ear.

You murmured his name, and it seemed to break the spell. Suddenly he backed away, panting. Bucky tried to scoot away from you, but you held him fast.

“Stay.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You can and you will.” He started to pull away again but you gripped his vest tighter, the leather creaking. “James Buchanan Barnes, if you think I’m going to let you walk out that door and throw your life away, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Your voice was firm, but your eyes held nothing but warmth and love for him. Bucky didn’t see it though, he was back to staring at the floor again.

“I killed your family.” His voice was miserable, trembling.

“I know.”

“I hurt you and brought you to Hydra. To Strucker.”

“I know.” Reaching up, you gently turned his face until he was looking at you. “I also know that you weren’t in control when it happened. You weren’t Bucky— _my Bucky_ —you were the Soldat. And if there is any _one_ person that understands that, don’t you think I do?”

Bucky still wouldn’t look at you, but he didn’t pull away anymore. He blinked and frowned, remaining silent.

“I know what it feels like to be a passenger in your own body. To wake up and remember the horrible things you’ve done. I know what it feels like to be ripped apart—to have blood on your hands, so much that you think it’s never going to come off.

“You’re not the monster Bucky, _they_ are. The innocent, carefree young man that you were before they got their hands on you—that person is still in there. _That’s_ the man I love. And time and again, that man fought the programming to find me. To prove he was still human.”

You reached up and pressed your hand to his heart, feeling it hammering away beneath your palm.

“This. This is who you are. This right here. They may have changed you, made you do horrible things beyond your control, but they couldn’t take this away. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, his eyes flicking to yours before returning to the floor.

“If you really think that, if you _really_ think that all of those things were your fault, then you’re condemning me in the same breath. There is just as much blood on my hands as yours, Bucky, and if you think you’re a monster, than I’m one too. It that what you think? That I’m a monster?”

“No,” he whispered.

You took his hand and placed it against your heart.

“We’ve both done horrible things, but we’re still us. We’re still human. You showed me that. You saved me from that place and gave me a second chance. Let me be yours. I love you, Bucky. All of you, the good and the bad, the dark and the light. I love _all_ of you.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched, and you felt him press his hand tighter to your chest. Slowly, his eyes met yours, but this time, the panicked flight was gone. His mouth opened and shut, and finally the words began spilling out.

“I love you too Y/N, so much it’s tearing me apart.” His voice was raspy, thick with emotion. “I…I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t—”

“No… _please_ let me just say this. I’m sorry for everything that I did, yes…and I will always carry that regret, but I hear you. I _hear_ you. And you’re right, because that’s the thing, isn’t it? There just _isn’t_ anyone else who would understand what it’s like better than you. I’m sorry Y/N, for pushing you away. You deserved better than that.”

“Bucky—”

“No, it’s all right. It’s true. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do…to look you in the eye and tell you what I’d done. And I was cruel—I hated myself, but I took it out on you, and for that I’m sorry. I could only imagine how horrible that was for you, but you handled it with more strength and grace then I ever could have thought possible.”

Bucky reached up and smoothed your hair back, and for the first time you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I love you so much and so completely, Y/N…I was stupid to push you away. I still don’t know how we ended up here. I just…I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

His expression sobered, but there was still warmth in his eyes.

“It’s gonna take a while before I can come to terms with this…what I’ve done. But I’m done running from you. I’m here with you Y/N, and I’m not going to leave you again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You pulled his face towards yours, and this time the kiss was soft and sweet. It was a lover’s kiss, and so reminiscent of the ones that had come before that it left you weak at the knees. When he smiled it was genuine, his face lighting up and his eyes crinkling at the edges. That was when you knew he had finally come home to you.

Bucky sat down against the bulkhead and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. You snuggled into his side, and his soft chuckle sent shivers of happiness through you. Through the open ramp of the Quinjet the rain continued to drum on the tarmac, the lights of the city barely visible. You both sat in silence, content just to be still and hold one another as you watched the rain pour down.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Fluff, Smut
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

The first hint of dawn was just starting to lighten the early morning sky. Outside the Quinjet, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, but Bucky didn’t care. The sun had come back into his life.

He still couldn’t believe the turn of events that had led him here. From the highest high coming off the heels of their date night to the depths of his depression as the grief and remorse threatened to destroy him, he honestly couldn’t believe he was sitting where he was with the woman he loved wrapped in his arms.

Y/N had saved him. She honestly and truly had. Bucky had been hobbled by his own self-loathing, unable to see what was right in front of him. She nearly had to kick his ass to do it, but in the end Y/N had saved his life.

_“If you really think that, if you really think that all of those things were your fault, then you’re condemning me in the same breath. There is just as much blood on my hands as yours, Bucky, and if you think you’re a monster, than I’m one too. It that what you think? That I’m a monster?”_

That’s what had done it—those words had snapped him out of his descent into self-destruction. Bucky hadn’t cared about himself, and if he was being honest he still didn’t, but Y/N was his entire world. She was right. It didn’t matter whose blood was on their hands, if he was going to label himself as guilty then he might as well label her as well.

Bucky would do anything for her, and if she could forgive him for what he had done, then he would try to forgive himself as well. It would take time—it still made him physically sick to think about it—but he would try, for her. He had hurt her deeply, not just by his actions as the Asset, but by his actions—and his words—now, as himself. His words had been cruel and designed to hurt himself, but they had hurt her too. He pushed her away, yet she still held onto him and wrapped him in her love.

She was a rare woman, and he was lucky to call her his.

They were still sitting there, hours after the confrontation in the jet. Y/N was tucked securely under his arm, fast asleep. Bucky rested his cheek against the top of her head and listened to her breathe, the sound soothing to his busy mind.

He had dozed off for a while, but after spending days in bed, he was filled with a nervous energy. Or, rather, the burning need to finish what they both had started—Bucky was sure that’s what she had been setting out to do before he interrupted her departure.

He wanted them both to be free from Hydra. _Truly_ free. The last incident had shown him just how much of a hold Hydra still had on them both, and it was frightening how close he had come to the edge. This time it had been him, but the next time it could be her.

Bucky couldn’t allow that to happen, and he was pretty sure she felt the same way. Strucker wouldn’t stop. Hydra wouldn’t stop, and they were in a unique position to put an end to it all.

Y/N started to stir, and he watched her as she slowly woke. He tucked his knees up and pulled her closer until he was almost cradling her in his arms. She blinked her eyes open and smiled lazily up at him. He could still read the tiredness in her eyes—the past few days had taken a toll on her as well.

“Hey,” she said, sitting up and laying against his knees, facing him. She took his metal hand and held it, playing with his fingers.

“Hey.”

Bucky curled his fingers, interlocking them with hers. She seemed lost in thought, but he knew what was on her mind.

“You were going after Strucker, weren’t you?” he asked softly.

She didn’t say anything, but her mouth tightened in a grim line.

“That’s what _I_ was going to do,” he said. “We can’t ever be free, they won’t stop…and I want that for us…to be free.”

“Yeah, but I was planning on coming back, you weren’t.” She looked at him, and he could see hurt flash across her eyes briefly before she sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…it’s just, I came so close to losing you, and it—”

Bucky gripped her hands tightly. “Don’t you ever apologize for being afraid. I’m so sorry I put you through that, made you feel that way.”

He tilted her face up so he could see her eyes. They were swimming with unshed tears, and he felt a pang, seeing just how scared she had been. He pulled her into his arms, settling her head against his chest.

“You’re not going to lose me, Y/N. I won’t ever leave you again, I promise.”

He felt her tears start to fall and he held her tighter, wishing he could take back the hurt. All he could do now, though, was be there for her and reassure her—it would take them both some time to heal.

Y/N sniffed and pulled away slightly, wiping her face on her sleeve. Her eyes were bright and full of fire once more, like she had reached a decision.

“We can still do it, you know…if that’s want,” she said.

“Is that what _you_ want?”

She was silent a moment, and when she looked up at him her eyes were filled with a cold determination.

“Yes. I want to be done with all of this. I want to move on with our lives, together.”

She planted a kiss against his palm. “I still feel how I did up on that roof. I want that dream of ours to come true. I want to build a life with you, and I want to do it free from the shadows of our past. And yes…I want Strucker to pay for what he did to us, what he did to our families and our friends, and to all the others that came before and after us.”

Bucky nodded, his jaw clenching. Remnants of his previous anger towards Hydra was beginning to surface again. He frowned.

“Where were you going to start? Looking for him, I mean?”

Y/N pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her stealth suit. She unfolded it, and he recognized it as the list of Hydra Facilities where they had been stored. She pointed to the last one.

“Here. Zepkow, Germany. It says it’s a vault, I’m not sure what that is exactly, but it’s the only place we haven’t tried.”

Bucky nodded—that was where he was going to start too. There was no guarantee Strucker would be at the Vault, but at the very least they could pick up a trail, maybe even destroy some supplies and weapons while they were at it.

“This…something like this, tracking him down, it could take weeks, months even. Are you ready for that? Because once we show our faces, not just to them but to everyone else, they’re going to start hunting us down. If we’re not on the offensive we’ll be on the run, and our dreams will have to take a back seat until we see this through.”

She smiled up at him. She wasn’t offended, she knew he wasn’t questioning her resolve or her stamina, he honestly just wanted her opinion.

“I don’t care how long it takes, as long as I’m with you. We’ll get this done, together, and then we’ll have all the time in the world to do the things we talked about. There’s no one I would trust with this, no one I would rather have by my side than you. I’m in this until the very end.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers in admiration. The sweetest angel and the fiercest hellcat, and she was his. There was no one else he’d rather have by his side, either.

“Do we call in the team on this, or is it a two-man job?” Bucky already knew the answer, but again, he wanted to know what she thought.

Y/N shook her head. “Too many people, too much noise. Steve will want to over-plan, and we have to remain fluid. Every time we’ve gone in with a large force, Strucker managed to slip away. I’m not letting him slip away again.”

Bucky nodded grimly at her—those were his thoughts exactly. They stared at each other for a few more moments, silent thoughts and emotions passing between them. Bucky suddenly leaned forward capturing her face in his hands and kissing her full on the mouth.

“I love you so much,” he murmured.

She kissed him again, her lips searing against his. “I love you more.”

Bucky stood, offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet. They secured their gear and went through the takeoff procedures. When he asked about tracking, she told him she’d already disabled the device, and he nodded in approval as he fired up the Quinjet.

The aircraft lifted off from the Avengers Tower, the light drizzle dampening the noise from the engines and cloaking it from view. Bucky entered the coordinates for the Vault into the Navi-computer, and pushed back from the console as the jet gained altitude and settled onto its course.

For a long time they were both silent, lost in thought as they both stared out the windshield. From the co-pilot’s seat, Y/N leaned over and took his hand. He looked over at her, admiring the rosy tint to her cheeks and wondering what she was thinking about. She was still staring forward out the window, and he found his eyes dropping to hungrily rake over her figure.

Bucky was suddenly consumed with a burning need to feel her against him, but he mentally scolded himself—she was still tired, and didn’t need him pawing all over her. He released her hand with a squeeze and stretched, settling deeper into his seat. He heard her turn, and he could feel her eyes on him.

“I’ve got it set on autopilot, we should be there in about five hours. You should get some rest, sweetheart.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, she just stared at him. Bucky glanced over at her. She was leaning on the armrest, her chin in her hand, and her face was blank except for the hint of a smile. He blushed, suppressing a smile of his own.

“What?”

She still didn’t say anything, and Bucky snorted a laugh.

“All right, play the sphynx. If you’re not gonna get some sleep, then I am.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, pretending to sleep. Suddenly he felt a warm weight in his lap, and his eyes flew open. Y/N was straddling him in the chair. Bucky’s mouth fell open and she leaned down, whispering in his ear.

“I can think of something else we can do to pass the time.”

_Oh._

Bucky let out a breathy laugh as she guided his hands to her hips. She bit her lip and ground her hips against him, and if he wasn’t hard before, he certainly was now. She grinned wickedly at him and it took every last ounce of restraint he had not to rip her uniform off right then and there. Leaning against the armrest, she nipped his jaw and his head fell back, giving her ample access to his throat.

She worked her way up to his lips, licking and biting, giving feather soft kisses and sucking the skin between her teeth. All the while she ground against him, and the overstimulation had his heart thundering in his chest to the point where he almost felt light headed. Bucky was panting by the time she reached his lips, and his restraint was at an end. The second her lips drew close to his he was on her, moaning as her tongue licked into his mouth.

He gripped her by the thighs and pulled her tight against him as he stood up, his mouth never breaking contact with hers. They stumbled against the bulkhead and she giggled, the sound another ray of sunlight on his soul.

Leather creaked as he laid her down in the back of the Quinjet, throwing some blankets down on the floor. Zippers were pulled down, snaps were unbuttoned, buckles were tugged loose—it was a lot of work, but damn was it hot taking off her stealth suit. Then, still wearing the tank top and boy shorts she wore under the suit, she pushed him down on the blankets and Bucky checked the box on another fantasy he didn’t know he had as she undressed him.

They took their time, two lovers finding each other again. It was like coming home, her body so familiar to him and honestly something he never thought he’d see again. All her secret spots, all her surprises, even after all this time she still took his breath away. Bucky drank her in as she lay naked beneath him.

“I missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek.

She smiled up at him. “I missed you too.” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, a soft kiss that turned into a gasp as his fingers found her core.

Slowly he brought her closer and closer to the edge, memorizing every sound she made, every micro expression that flickered across her face as she came undone. He knew she was getting close, but her eyes flew open and she looked at him, her eyes dark and needy.

Bucky gripped her thighs and pushed inside with one thrust, groaning loudly as she clamped down around him. She growled and gripped his hair tightly, pulling him close and demanding more. Bucky quickly built up momentum, panting into her throat as he slammed his hips against hers. Her hungry mouth found his, and he nearly came on the spot when she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

She whimpered, clenching down as she came, and Bucky cried out as he fell over the edge, releasing inside of her. He collapsed next to her, trembling as he came down from his high. It felt like his entire body had gone numb.

As soon as he could function again he drew her into her arms, and she lay there like a wilted flower, the sweat glistening on her naked body. She looked like she was glowing.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers lightly grazing her body and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She hummed and traced her fingers lazily over his chest. She drew closer to the scars around his shoulder and his breath hitched. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen them before, but somehow they seemed more sinister now, and he wondered if they would bother her.

Y/N could read him like a book. She saw the uncertainty in his eyes, and bent down, kissing the sensitive skin where the metal met flesh. Bucky inhaled sharply.

“So beautiful,” she said, repeating his words and she trailed kisses along the scar tissue, his shoulder, and up to his lips. “Every inch of you is beautiful to me.”

Bucky huffed out a breath, his eyes starting to burn. She kissed him and he rolled on top of her, twitching against her body as it pressed against his. He pulled back and brushed the hair back from her face, playing with one of the strands as he bit his lip.

“So, uh, I set a proximity alarm before you jumped me, it’ll let us know when we’re an hour out,” he said, drawing the blanket over their bodies. He playfully nipped at her collarbone, and she giggled. “Gotta make up for lost time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but I wanted to get into Bucky's head a bit to see where he was at, and to allow for some planning and a bit of quiet time for them both before all the action starts. Thanks for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Death, Nightmare/Panic Attack, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

_“Y/N, please! Don’t do this!”_

_Bucky dodged your swing as you advanced upon him, your eyes cold and distant. Deep down something was screaming at you to stop, but you couldn’t._

_He was your mission._

_“Please…stop,” he begged as his back pressed against the wall. “You know me.”_

_There was nowhere for him to go. The blank expression on your face never wavered as a knife was pulled, and you flipped it in your hands before you thrust it at his chest, the blade finding its mark._

_Bucky gasped as you drove it upward, a gasp that was choked off as the knife pierced his heart. He stared uncomprehendingly at you as you pulled the blade from the mortal wound, and he crumpled to the ground._

_“Mission complete.”_

_You stared at the broken figure at your feet, two sightless blue eyes staring up at you in a widening pool of blood. Two shiny boots stepped into your field of vision._

_“Good work, Soldat.”_

***

Y/N’s gasp jolted Bucky out a deep sleep, and at first he was confused about where he was. He was in the back of the Quinjet, cocooned on the deck in a makeshift bed of blankets. He heard heavy breathing, and he looked up to see Y/N sitting up and staring sightlessly at her hands.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer—she didn’t even seem to hear him. Bucky quickly sat up and turned her face towards him.

“Y/N…Y/N! Look at me,” he commanded, his voice firm. Her eyes snapped to his, pupils dilated in fear.

“Are you here with me?”

She nodded, seemingly unable to speak. She was pale, and she pressed a trembling hand to the front of his uniform as if checking to see if something was there. Her eyes watered and she launched herself into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around him.

“You’re alive…it wasn’t real…you’re alright…”

“O-Of course I am, sweetheart,” he said, overcome by the strength of her relief. “What was it, a nightmare?”

She didn’t reply. She just buried her face deeper into his neck. Bucky held her tighter.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m right here…I’m fine.”

She murmured his name and pulled back slightly, kissing him like she had thought she would never kiss him again. She broke away after a moment, sniffing and wiping her face as she tried to regain control of herself.

“H-How much longer until we’re there?”

Bucky looked at the clock. “We’re about an hour out…Do you want to talk about it?”

At first it looked like she didn’t, but then she hugged her knees to her chest and looked over at him.

“I dreamed I was the Asset again. I…I killed you.”

Bucky was silent for a moment. He wasn’t that surprised, his brain had cooked up all sorts of messed up horrors to visit him in the form of nightmares. What he was thinking of, though, was one nightmare in particular…one he had when Y/N had first come to the Tower.

_“Why’d you do it, Bucky?”_

_“You should’ve killed me…it would’ve been kinder.”_

He’d had that nightmare months before he found out what he had done. What the hell did that mean, anyway? Plenty of memories had come back to him that way, filtered through the planes of a dream state…but this wasn’t a memory. So what was it—built up nerves over the path that lay ahead of them, or a subconscious warning?

Bucky wondered suddenly if this wasn’t all a horrible idea.

“Y/N, we…we don’t have to do this. We can just turn around…”

“No. No, I want to keep going,” she said, her eyes determined once again. “If that’s what you want…”

Bucky didn’t want to turn around either. He wanted to be done with this, once and for all.

“I do. I meant what I said—I want to finish this together. With you. I just…are you okay?”

She sighed and leaned into his touch, and he put his arm around her. “I’ll be fine, it just shook me up a bit. I just need to get my head back in the game, that’s all.”

Bucky nodded and kissed the top of her head, and he helped her to stand. Despite the slight uneasiness he felt, they both needed to get their heads in the game.

It was time to go to work.

***

**One Hour Later – Zepkow, Germany**

“There’s nothing here.”

Bucky frowned as he piloted the Quinjet over the coordinates, it’s stealth switch activated. From this altitude they would be invisible to both radar and the naked eye. Not that there was anyone here to see them, though.

“It looks like an abandoned manufacturing complex…it also looks like it’s been OOC for a few years,” Y/N said from the co-pilot’s seat.

“Could be underground—you got anything on the infrared?”

She shook her head. “If it’s underground they’ll have to have one hell of a power source, but if it’s aluminum lined it’ll kill the IR. I’m not picking up anything over the complex—wait.” She paused and fiddled with the IR controls. “Swing down over that river.”

Bucky adjusted the controls and the craft, and her eyes narrowed.

“There,” she said, pointing at a bend in the river. “Heat bloom. It’s got to be from the discharge of a cooling tower. They’re here, all right.”

Bucky leaned over, and he saw the telltale swirl of colors on the infrared. “That’s an awful lot of heat…whatever they’re powering down there, it’s big.”

He sat up and angled the Quinjet towards the woods, finding a clear spot to land. “All right, we’ll advance in on foot and surveil the place until dark. This goes south, I’ve got the emergency beacon to call for backup.”

Bucky was surprised how quickly he and Y/N fell back into their old routine once the Quinjet landed. He stood next to her as they both armed themselves, strapping on guns and knives, grenades and plastic explosive, detonators and trip wires. Just enough to remain light and mobile, but more than enough to get the job done.

Already they had lapsed back into nonverbal communication, seemingly reading each other’s thoughts. Bucky felt his senses sharpen, his pulse quicken, and a strange calm descend upon him. He hated it, but this was what they had been made for, and they were good at it.

Y/N lowered the ramp and he grabbed her hand, tugging her back. Her eyes were sharp and focused, but they softened immediately upon meeting his gaze. She smiled at him as he took a step towards him, capturing her lips with his.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Bucky.”

And with that their masks were back on, cold-blooded killers once again.

***

**Avengers Tower**

“Buck?”

Steve knocked again on the door, but there was no answer. He pushed open the door to Bucky’s room and walked in, halting immediately in his tracks.

For the last five days Bucky had laid in that bed, but he wasn’t there now. The bed was neatly made, everything put away tidily like he hadn’t been there in weeks.

A sense of dread hit Steve like a blow to the stomach, and he called out again for his friend. There was no answer of course. Steve crossed the room and threw open the door to the bathroom.

For one horrible moment Steve actually thought he saw Bucky laying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Then he blinked, and he realized the room was empty.

Bucky wasn’t here.

He raced out into the hallway and almost collided with Nat.

“Hey Steve, do you know where Y/N is? I wanted to see if she wanted to come to the gym with me, and I can’t find her anywhere.”

“I can’t find Bucky either,” he said. “He’s not in his room.”

Nat raised her voice, addressing the AI. “JARVIS, do you know where Y/N and Bucky are?”

_“Sergeant Barnes and Miss Y/L/N departed the Tower in a Quinjet six hours ago.”_

“What?!” he sputtered. “They left?! How could you let them—”

_“I was under no such orders to hold them here, Captain Rogers, and they both had the necessary clearance codes for the Quinjet.”_

“Oh my god.”

Nat stared at him as he paced the hallway, his mind frantically trying to sort out where they might have gone. Suddenly it came to him, and he paled.

Steve grabbed Nat by the shoulders. “Get Stark, scramble the second Quinjet, grab everybody we’ve got. I wanna be in the air in fifteen.”

“But the tracking’s disabled. We don’t know where they went.”

“Yes we do—the Vault.” Steve spun on his heels and ran down the hallway, Nat right at his heels.

“They’re going after Strucker.”

***

**Strucker’s Vault - Zepkow, Germany**

Doctor List ran through the Vault, his panicked footsteps echoing off the stone. The alarms had started going off about five minutes ago, but the Assets had been in the facility long before then. Everywhere he looked was another body. He skidded around the corner and into the command center as his lab coat flapped absurdly around him.

“Herr Strucker,” he panted, “The Assets…they’re here! They’re killing…everyone!”

“Yes, I know.”

The voice was calm, amused even. Strucker stood with his arms crossed in front of him and stared up at the bank of CCTV screens. Bodies were littered through hallways, clogging the doorways. List looked from Strucker to the screens and back again.

“They’re early…we don’t have everything in place yet—”

“It’s no matter, List. Yes, they came a little earlier than expected, but they are here. And alone. We will proceed as planned.”

He chuckled to himself, and List stared at him as if he’d gone completely mad.

Strucker pointed to one of the screens. “You see here List? Come, look closer.”

List really didn’t want to, but he did anyway.

“Look. They’re only killing the guards and technicians. They’re letting all the workers go.”

Strucker was right, he saw. Men and women were running for the exit before the blast doors closed, stepping over the bodies of downed Hydra soldiers and agents while the intruder alarms flashed and blared loudly.

The Assets were letting all of the civilian workers go.

The Vault had been strategically placed under a defunct artillery factory, it’s underground levels converted to a massive manufacturing plant. Civilian workers from the surrounding towns and villages had been hired to fill the positions—they had no idea who they were actually working for, or what they were actually building.

“They’re soft. They’re being selective about who they kill. They’re not the mindless killing machines we created, they actually care. And that is what makes them soft. _That’s_ what we’ll use against them.”

Strucker stood and looked at him. “Get to your lab, Doctor, and get ready. I’ll funnel them down to the Vault, and when its over I’ll send what’s left up to you.”

He motioned for no less than eight of the guards to accompany him, and List felt slightly reassured. Surely that would be enough to protect him.

Still, his knees wobbled like jelly as he entered his lab. He tried to go about his preparations, but he kept glancing nervously at the door. All eight guards were stationed around the room, looking menacing as they sighted in on the door.

The lights went out. List couldn’t see a thing except what was reflected in the red light from the alarm. The guards tightened their positions, and for a moment nobody moved a muscle.

Then, a gasp from behind. List whirled, and he saw that one of the guards was missing, a red splatter on the floor where he had stood. A shout to his right, and another man was yanked back into the darkness.

The guards opened fire, and List dropped to the ground. Staccato gunfire and panicked shouting, and over it all the alarm blared away. From his position beneath the operating table he could see their boots as they pivoted, trying to spot their attackers. Bodies dropped around him, until there was no one left standing.

Silence. List still couldn’t hear or see much of anything, but he knew the Assets were in the room with him. He pulled the pistol from the belt of one of the dead guards, and he stood slowly.

List had never fired a gun. His weapons had been the scalpel and the syringe, and he had wielded them well. Now it looked like he was about to pay the price, though, his own creations come to destroy him.

Two shadows separated from the darkness and stood silently in front of him. He could see nothing except the whites of their eyes and the glint of the metal arm. List shakily raised his pistol, taking aim at the male.

He fired.

Nothing happened—he had forgotten to take the safety off. A metal hand came up and wrapped itself around the barrel of the gun, gently taking it from List’s boneless grasp.

“P-Please…please…”

List didn’t know what he was begging for, not really—he knew he was a dead man. He backed away, repeating the word until his legs hit the table. The Asset moved suddenly, the metal arm coming up towards List’s throat.

List saw the blade flash, but he never felt its sting. He crumbled to the floor, dead before he hit the ground.

***

You stared down at the body of the man at Bucky’s feet. You knew who he was—you both did. The man’s face had haunted your dreams, grinning down at you eagerly while you laid strapped to an operating table, screaming.

You felt nothing for him.

You looked up at Bucky and took his hand, drawing him back into the moment. His eyes softened as he looked at you, and his lips twitched into a small smile. Anger and vengeance were coursing though you both, but you refused to give yourselves over to it completely. You would not become the monsters they thought you were.

Bucky took point, leading you out of the medical lab and out on to the catwalk surrounding the factory floor. It had surprised you both to find that the main level was actually manufacturing plant, with deeper sublevels that housed the Vault itself. You grimly wondered what they were building.

Bucky led you deeper into the facility as you continued your search for Strucker. Two great blast doors had sealed the entrance to the factory, and now you had come upon another set. The entrance to the Vault.

They were open.

For a moment, something tugged at your brain, warning you. You glanced up at Bucky, and you saw he had hesitated too. It felt too easy somehow. It felt like a trap.

Still, you had gotten this far, and you knew neither of you were leaving here without your quarry. Bucky’s eyebrows raised slightly in question, and you nodded. You might be walking into a trap, but you were walking in forewarned.

The blast doors led to another catwalk that opened on to a vast warehouse. You crept along the shadows, inching closer until you saw what the Vault actually stored.

Cryostasis chambers. Hundreds of them.

Bucky’s hand tightened around your arm, and you looked over to where he was pointing. Dozens of mind wipe chairs stood in a long line of sinister leather and steel. Bucky pulled you back from the edge, and you both sank back against the wall.

You felt like you were going to be sick. Bucky reached out and took your hand, and you saw that he was shaking. He was just as disgusted and affected by the sight as you were.

Strucker was planning to make an army of Winter Soldiers, and he already had the means to do it.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he held something up, showing it to you. It was the plastic explosive. Somehow, just seeing that he held the power to destroy those horrible machines in the palm of his hand grounded you. Nodding grimly, you held up the detonators.

It took every ounce of self-control you had to walk amongst the instruments of your torture and captivity, attaching the explosives and detonators. You worriedly looked over at Bucky, and you saw he was sweaty and pale—being this close was almost more than either of you could handle.

The explosives were planted and you gratefully moved on from the Vault, towards the doors at the rear of the facility. You still hadn’t found Strucker, and you were heading further underground.

You walked through the doors into a smaller circular chamber. There were two doors leading out, and you both tried them. They were locked.

Bucky’s head jerked up, and he looked at you just as the main door started to swing shut.

“No!” He ran to the closing doors, but it was too late. The heavy blast doors slammed shut.

You were trapped.

“My, my…look how predictable you both are. Still willing to sacrifice yourselves to complete your mission.”

You both froze. You knew that voice—Baron Wolfgang von Strucker, the man responsible for destroying both your lives.

You could see him through a thick window set into the main door. He was smiling. You both raised your rifles instinctively and fired, but the bullets glanced off the reinforced glass.

“Please, don’t embarrass yourselves. The Soviets designed this chamber to withstand the blast of UR-100 rockets. You’re quite secure, I assure you.”

“What do you want with us?” Bucky asked. You tensed, afraid to hear what the answer would be.

Strucker clicked his tongue in chastisement. “I simply want my property back, Soldat. You both belong to me, and you’ve been gone far too long. I’m afraid, though, your return to service will be rather short.”

Strucker looked up, addressing Bucky only.

“You see, it was never about you. My little sparrow was the one I truly wanted—she is the _true_ masterpiece here. All you ever were was a thorn in my side. A broken, imperfect Asset built by a man who was only trying to follow in the footsteps of greater men. Arnim lacked vision.

“I not only replicated Erskine’s formula…I enhanced it. Roger’s DNA combined with our superior formula, and look at the product!” Strucker’s eyes flashed in delight. “And now, with your help my dear, we will go even further. We will push the very bounds of science, creating not only the perfect soldier, but the unbeatable soldier. We will create miracles.”

“I’ll never help you,” you growled.

He held up a red book with a black star on it, and your blood ran cold.

“Oh, I think you will.”

Strucker regarded the book in his hands, caressing it’s worn pages lovingly.

“The funny thing is, the electroconvulsive shocks are only needed to make the effects of the programming last longer. Think of it as more of a maintenance procedure. Once the initial programming is in place, all I need are ten little words, and you will belong to me once more.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around your wrist, and he pulled you behind him protectively. Strucker laughed.

“Look at you, you’re pathetic! Protecting her, even now. She has returned home to me of her own free will—”

“We were coming to kill you, you bastard!”

Strucker was unphased by your outburst. “Nonetheless, you are here, and now you will be returned to your natural state. I even have your first mission planned.”

His cold eyes flicked to Bucky. “You’ve long outlived your usefulness, Soldat. I should have terminated you the moment I saw the effect you had on her, but I foolishly thought I could re-tame you.”

Strucker raised the red book. “I will not make that same mistake twice.” His eyes glanced down at the page in front of him.

_“Trestle.”_

Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked at you in horror.

“No,” you breathed.

_“Celestial.”_

“Stop!”

You covered your ears and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice. It was deafening, blaring over the loudspeakers and filling the room.

Bucky’s hands clamped down over yours. He tilted your head up so you could look at him. He was mouthing something to you, but you couldn’t hear him.

_“Twelve.”_

You felt something shift in you. A tweak in your brain, a spasm that you couldn’t control. You cried out and Bucky pressed down harder, desperately trying to shield you from the trigger words. He was as white as a sheet—he knew it wasn’t working.

You screamed.

_“Bullet.”_

Bucky was mouthing something to you again, his face tortured. “Stay with me, Y/N…fight it, I know you can.”

_“Warming.”_

Wait…what was happening? For one horrible moment, you didn’t know where you were, and you looked at the man in front of you in confusion. Then you snapped back to yourself.

This was really happening. Strucker was turning you back into the Asset.

_“Five.”_

“No!”

You shoved Bucky away from you, and he fell back. Lurching to your feet, you frantically tore at the weapons on your tactical vest and threw them as far as you could, disarming yourself. Bucky reached out to you, but you shoved him back.

“No! Stay away from me—Bucky, you have to stay away from me,” you pleaded.

“Y/N—”

“Please! I’ll kill you!”

_“Hillside.”_

You started to shake violently. Your hand tightened around the hilt of the knife in your hands and you stared at it. A black numbness was washing over your brain, its creeping tendrils changing you. Your hand started to re-sheath the knife, moving with a mind of its own.

You gasped as you came back to yourself, and you dropped the weapon.

You fell to your knees. Bucky gathered you up in his arms, holding you tightly.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N, it’s…it’s gonna be okay…I love you so much.”

_“Turntable.”_

Bucky’s voice was fading away, like he was standing at the end of a long tunnel. The numbness was taking over now, and your last conscious thought was to push him away as hard as you could. The warmth of his hands left your body and you sank to the floor, covering your head with your arms.

_“Three.”_

The Asset does not think. The Asset does not feel.

Bucky. Remember Bucky.

Who?

The Asset does not want.

It complies.

_“Sparrow.”_

***

The Asset stands. 

“Good morning, Soldat.”

“Ready to comply,” comes the obedient answer.

Silence descends upon the Vault. You stare straight ahead, waiting for further instruction. A man is standing several feet away on your right, just at the edge of your peripheral vision. He’s armed—a threat, but he doesn’t move. His breathing is fast and shallow, like he’s preparing for a fight.

He is afraid.

“Mission objective.”

The voice on the loudspeaker hesitates a moment before speaking. “Soldat, there is a man standing next to you. Look at him.”

You turn your head, and he visibly flinches.

“Soldat, do you know this man?”

You don’t.

“No.”

The man’s eyes shut tightly for a moment. He looks like he’s about to cry.

“Good,” says the voice. “Kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry it's been awhile since the last update, I actually re-wrote this chapter several times. I ended up deciding not to go with a huge fight scene in this chapter, because the next chapter is obviously going to be the big fight between the Asset (Reader) and Bucky. I also chose to leave them nonverbal through most of this chapter, because I think that's how they actually would fight, reverting back into their old ways. 
> 
> The dream sequences--I put those in as a nod to the layers of subconscious that they both have as a result of the Hydra experimentation. They're both damaged as a result and I think their thought processes would be different from the average human. I put the nightmares in there to show that a lot of their processing and warnings take place on a subconscious level. It's a warning they probably should have listened to, but they're flawed and driven by the desire for revenge, so now we are left with Bucky and an activated Reader. 
> 
> Sorry about the cliffhanger, but you should be used to it by now...I'll try to be quicker on the next update.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Fight Scene
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

_“Trestle.”_

Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked at her in horror. He had thought _he_ was going to be the one activated—right up until he heard that first trigger word.

“No,” she breathed.

Bucky’s mind whirled in useless panic.

_“Celestial.”_

“Stop!”

Strucker’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, and she clamped her hands over her ears. Bucky jumped into action, covering them with his own.

Y/N was terrified. Bucky didn’t know if she would even be able to fight the words if she heard them—he’d never heard his own while he was lucid, they always came after a trip to the chair. Still, they had to try…the alternative was too horrible to think about. He shouted at her, hoping that if she couldn’t hear him she could at least read his lips.

“Don’t listen to it! Stay with me, Y/N…c’mon, fight it!”

_“Twelve.”_

The expression on her face flickered, and for a moment she was gone. Then she was back, and she cried out in fear, looking up at him in desperation. She knew exactly what was happening to her, her mind and soul being torn from her grasp, but she was powerless to stop it.

Bucky pressed down harder, but he knew it wasn’t working.

She began to scream.

_“Bullet.”_

Bucky’s heart was in his throat. It was like watching a car wreck in slow motion…forces beyond his control. He had tried so hard to protect her, but he couldn’t save her from this.

He gently caressed her temples, pleading with her. “Stay with me, Y/N…fight it, I know you can.”

_“Warming.”_

She blinked, and she was gone again. Her eyes were still locked with his, but they held no recognition. Her body went rigid and she shook her head as if to clear it, and she blinked at him in confusion.

She was slipping away.

_“Five.”_

“No!”

Y/N shoved Bucky so hard he fell back onto the stone floor. He caught himself as she stood, frantically tearing the weapons from her vest and throwing them across the room.

She was disarming herself. Even now, in her final moments, she knew she was going to lose this fight. She was still trying to keep him safe. Bucky reached out to her, trying to comfort her, help her— _anything_ —but she pushed him back.

“No! Stay away from me—Bucky, you have to stay away from me,” she pleaded with him.

“Y/N—”

“Please! I’ll kill you!”

_“Hillside.”_

Her eyes went distant, and he saw the darkness overtake her. She began to shake violently. She was fighting so hard against it, her fingers still curled around the hilt of her knife, but she couldn’t let it go.

The Asset had control of her now.

She started to bring the knife closer to her body, and for one horrible moment, he thought she was going to kill herself. He lurched forward to take it from her, but it started to slide back into its holster instead. Y/N gasped again as she came back to herself, and Bucky kicked the knife away as she dropped it.

She fell to her knees, gasping. Bucky held her tightly and lied to her.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N, it’s…it’s gonna be okay…I love you so much.”

It wasn’t going to be okay. One or both of them was about to die, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Her eyes squeezed shut and she mouthed something to him, and he barely caught it.

“I love you Bucky, I’m sorry.”

_“Turntable.”_

She was slipping away now, he could feel it. She pushed him away, but it was weak. Bucky backed away as she rolled onto her knees and covered her head with her arms.

_“Three.”_

She was motionless now except for the tremors that wracked her body.

_“Sparrow.”_

Silence descended on the Vault. Y/N lay motionless on the floor, her head still covered with her arms.

Palms planted on the floor. First one, then the other, pushing herself up and standing. She faced forward and stood motionless, awaiting the next command.

She wasn’t Y/N anymore…she was the Asset.

“Good morning, Soldat.”

“Ready to comply.”

Bucky cringed, hearing the Russian words spoken so coldly with a voice he knew so well. This was really happening. Adrenaline surged through him, preparing him for the coming fight and enhancing the fear he felt. Not fear for himself, no—fear for her.

“Mission objective.”

The voice on the loudspeaker hesitated a moment before speaking. “Soldat, there is a man standing next to you. Look at him.”

The Asset turned her head towards him, and Bucky flinched. It was her face, but her eyes—they were the Asset’s. They held no recognition for him at all.

“Soldat, do you know this man?”

“No.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t look at her soulless eyes for one more second, and hearing her admit she didn’t know him was more than he could bear.

_I have to make her remember. She’s a fighter, I just have to hold her off long enough to help her remember. I have to bring her back._

“Good,” Strucker said. “Kill him.”

No hesitation. The Asset walked towards him and Bucky stepped back, trying to draw her away from the weapons cache in the corner.

“Y/N, don’t do this. This…this isn’t you. Fight it, come back to me.”

Her footsteps were heavy, unrelenting, her gaze emotionless…calculating his weaknesses.

“Please…I know you’re still in there. Fight it. You remember me, I know you do.”

Bucky raised his hands to block her, but a split second before she was on him the Asset dropped, rolling to his side and viciously lashing out at his ribs.

“I’m not gonna fight you!”

Bucky twisted to block the hit, but she was already moving again, catching across the chin in a vicious uppercut. Bucky’s head snapped back and he tasted blood. A kick to the back of his knees brought him to the ground and back to reality.

She really was going to kill him if he didn’t do something.

“Y/N! Look at me—you know me!”

The Asset lashed out again, and Bucky reacted instinctively. His hit knocked her back, but she didn’t even shake it off—she simply threw herself back into the fight. She was so fast. He barely had time to react to her hits before she was moving again.

Bucky held the advantage over her with his size and strength, but he couldn’t use it against her—he would hurt her. He has sparred with her numerous times, but this was different. She was a blur, throwing punches and kicks, mindlessly pressing him back without a thought to her own safety.

For a while, he met her blow for blow. Flesh met leather, leaving them both bloody and bruised. They were evenly matched, and it seemed like they would go on forever like that. Then he landed a lucky blow to her side, accidentally hitting her with full force. Bucky cried out as he felt something give beneath his fist and he heard the crack of bones breaking.

“Y/N!”

He’d _hurt_ her. He’d kill her himself if he weren’t careful.

The Asset went down on one knee briefly but was back on her feet the next second, launching a new assault that somehow surpassed her previous ferocity. Bucky was so distraught over hurting her, trying to watch how she moved to gauge how bad it was that he distractedly allowed her to slip behind him.

She seized the advantage, snaking an arm around his throat and sweeping a leg out from under him. Bucky choked as his air was cut off, and he fell to his knees. The plates in his arm shifted as stars exploded behind his eyes, but he didn’t pull her off—he’d break her arm if he tried.

As his vision began to dim and the blood roared in his ears, Bucky seriously considered just letting her kill him. Anything, just so he wouldn’t hurt her more than he already had. But if he did that, then nothing would stop Strucker from taking her and using her again…a fate that was worse than death.

_I’m sorry, sweetheart._

Bucky launched himself backwards, slamming his back—and the Asset—into the stone wall behind him. He heard the breath leave her lungs and her hold loosened slightly. Bucky twisted and grabbed her arms, flipping her over his back and throwing her across the room.

He was on her before she could stand, pinning her to the floor with his hands around her throat.

“Y/N, stop. Look at me, you know me.” Tears swam in his eyes as he started to choke her. “Please…please come back to me.”

It wasn’t like before, when she was in the holding cell. Then, she had just been in a daze after the relapse, lost in her own head.

Now she was fully activated, the programming driving her to kill and overriding all thought process. He had to get her to stop, to really look at him, if there was even a chance to bring her back.

Her hands scrabbled at his metal arm, and she bucked under him. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Bucky. Just look at me, I know you can fight it.”

Her lips were turning blue now, but Bucky didn’t stop. Her eyes skittered, looking for an out, an advantage…looking everywhere except where he needed her to look—at him. Bucky raised his other hand to caress her cheek, desperately trying to get through to her, and that was when he made his mistake.

He almost missed the subtle shift of her eyes before her fingers fastened around his knife, pulling it free from its holster. Without shifting she thrust it up at him, and Bucky released her, throwing himself back to avoid the hit.

The Asset didn’t hesitate. Speed was her advantage, and she used it well. Bucky barely got his hand up in time before she was on him, the blade of the knife swiping up towards his heart. He was able to knock it away from its intended target, but he grunted as she buried the knife up to the hilt in his shoulder.

She tried to yank the knife free so she could attack again, but Bucky wrapped his metal hand around hers, holding it in place. With his other hand he gripped her hair tightly, forcing her head up so that she would finally look at him.

Their eyes locked. Her gaze was so horribly cold, so unlike her that it nearly broke him. She struggled in his grip, the knife twisting painfully in the wound. Bucky blinked and clenched his jaw as he felt blood start to trickle down the front of his uniform.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s Bucky. Look at my eyes, sweetheart…you know me.”

He spoke softly to her, tender words from a lover instead of panicked pleas from a man fighting for his life.

A flicker of recognition and her struggles slowed, and then it was gone.

“It’s okay Y/N, I’m right here…I’m not going to let you go, I’m not going to let them take you again. You’re safe.”

Anger now. Confusion. Fear. She shook her head to clear it, and she looked at him with glazed eyes. The grip on the knife began to loosen.

“I love you Y/N. I will _always_ love you. Please come back to me.”

Her eyes were still locked with his, and he saw them start to clear. She was shaking now.

“I love you,” he murmured, smiling at her.

Y/N’s hands went slack, and she blinked up at him. “B-Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes never left hers as he pulled the knife from his shoulder with a grimace, tossing it away. She looked so confused and scared, it was almost like looking at the woman he had pulled out of that Hydra Base so long ago. The way she looked at him, as if she hadn’t seen him in years—Bucky let out a sob and wrapped her in his arms.

Y/N buried her face in his neck and held him tightly as he murmured in her ear. He could feel her tears soak into the collar of his uniform. She pulled back so she could see her face, grazing her fingers over the cuts and bruises, assessing the damage. Then her gaze dropped to his shoulder, and her eyes widened when she saw what she had done.

“Bucky—oh god! I…I almost killed you!” She pressed her hand against the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. It wasn’t bad though, his enhanced healing already taking over.

“Y/N, it’s all right. I’m okay,” he said, trying to calm her.

“I almost killed you,” she whispered. “Bucky, I…I’m so sorry.”

He could see she was starting to panic, her mind wracked with guilt and worry. Gently, he took her hand and held it against his heart.

“Nope, still here.”

She let out a sob and he cupped her face, pulling her into a kiss. She tasted like blood and salt, but most of all she tasted like _her._ Bucky’s lips tugged into a smile against hers, and he felt tears slip silently down his cheeks.

“I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so proud of you. You fought it…you came back to me.”

“I love you Bucky,” she said as she pressed her forehead to his. “I’ll always come back to you.”

Their relief over finding each other was so great that they failed to notice the door swing open behind them.

***

Strucker seethed in fury as he watched the scene unfold.

He had thought it was all over when the female grabbed the knife, but somehow— _somehow_ —the male was able to get through to her. To manipulate her into breaking through her programming yet again.

Strucker growled and pulled his own gun from its holster, checking the magazine. It was loaded with high velocity 9mm rounds with ballistic tips, and would cut through most body armor when fired at close range. It was a gun he deliberately carried in case an Asset had to be put down.

_Enough games. Time to do what I should have done years ago._

Strucker shoved open the door in a blind rage and entered the chamber in two strides, the gun raised. He saw the girl’s eyes widen and she pivoted, trying to move them both out of the line of fire.

Strucker squeezed the trigger and fired point blank into the Asset’s back.

Once.

Twice.

Both bodies jerked, and they dropped to the floor. The male lay sprawled across the female in a widening pool of blood, too much for one person. Strucker’s jaw tightened.

“What a waste,” he spat.

Strucker turned and shoved past the Hydra guards staring at the downed Assets in shock. He called up to the medical lab—there was still something to be salvaged here if they hurried.

List wasn’t answering the comms. Strucker swore viciously. The fool was probably cowering under his desk. He roughly grabbed the nearest guard and shoved him towards the open door.

“You—get in there and get a blood sample from each of them before there isn’t any left.”

The man hesitated. He didn’t want to enter the chamber with them, even if they were down. “A-Are they dead?”

“Check them and make sure…that’s what _this_ is for,” he said, indicating the man’s rifle.

The guard swallowed visibly and he entered the chamber, two more guards at his heels. Strucker watched as he bent down, peering at the Assets.

“I…I think they’re dead,” he called.

“Then get me those blood samples. We need them to replicate the serum.”

The man nodded, his jaw clenching. The two remaining guards drew down on the bodies as he slowly reached towards the male. He grasped him by the shoulder, and started to roll him over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek! Three more chapters to go (actually only 2 more and an epilogue.)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Fight Scene, Murder, Whump, Medical Trauma, Angst, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

“Don’t move.”

Bucky’s lips were inches from your ear, the words barely breathed. His arm was still trapped underneath you, and his hand tightened slightly against the back of your neck, holding you in place. You kept your eyes closed as the men in the other room argued. Strucker swore loudly.

Anger flared, and you swallowed it back down. Tunnel vision. You had been so focused on Bucky that you had allowed Strucker to enter the chamber, a mistake you both nearly paid for with your lives.

Bucky lay sprawled completely motionless on top of you, but you could feel his blood beginning to soak the front of your stealth suit. He’d been shot twice—you knew this, because after the bullets passed through him they’d hit you. Pain bloomed high on the right side of your chest and low in your abdomen.

The soldier in you took control. Compartmentalizing. One part of you listened to the men in the other room, while the other catalogued injuries and possible outcomes. Pain was locked away, and a calm settled over you. You could tell Bucky was doing the same thing, his breathing shallow and relaxed.

You could feel his heart racing as his body dealt with the damaged sustained. Your own pulse was just as fast, a wave of heat flowing through your veins as the serum took over and your enhanced healing kicked in. Adrenaline kicked your senses into high gear, numbing the pain and sharpening your focus.

In situations like this, being wounded almost made you stronger, an extra burst of energy from the serum, designed to help the Asset complete the mission and survive. Still, it wouldn’t last forever, and you weren’t fooling yourself about the gravity of the situation.

Already you could feel that one of the bullets was buried in your lung, which was problematic, and the wound in your stomach was bleeding heavily. Bucky’s injuries were of more concern—with both entry and exit wounds, he would bleed out twice as fast as you.

You had to end this, quickly.

Three sets of heavy boots tromped into the chamber, surrounding you. Bucky held his breath, and you did the same as one of them peered down at you.

“I-I think they’re dead.”

“Then get me those blood samples. We need them to replicate the serum.”

The man hesitated for a moment, and placed a hand tentatively on Bucky’s shoulder. As soon as he telegraphed his move, Bucky whispered again in your ear.

“Now. You right, me left.”

Bucky remained limp until the guard rolled him off of you, freeing your arms. You felt him tense a split second before he moved, but you were already in motion as well.

Your hand fastened around the barrel of the guard’s gun. His eyes went wide and his finger tightened on the trigger as you jerked the rifle out of his hands, the shot going wide. Rolling to your feet, you quickly shot both men as Bucky pulled the third guard in front of you both as a human shield.

More guards raced into the chamber, but the two former Assets were in their element. Bullets thudded into the back of the man in Bucky’s grip, and he threw the body at the guards, distracting them while you took them out one by one. You both shouldered the wall, positioning yourselves around the open door.

Bucky pulled a flash-bang from his belt and tossed it in the room. A muffled thud and panicked shouts as the men shot blindly, but you were already in the room. Soon, they lay dead at your feet as well.

All except one.

Strucker opened his eyes from where he cowered in the corner. He gave a little yelp seeing his two creations standing in front of him, and he raised his gun. Bullets pinged harmlessly off Bucky’s metal hand as he reached the man in two strides, ripping the gun from his grasp and breaking his hand.

Strucker howled.

In a flash, you had him up against the wall, anger rolling off you in waves. The man twisted in your grip, but you were stronger.

“S-Stand down, Soldat.”

“She doesn’t work like that anymore,” Bucky growled, the sound low and feral.

Strucker’s eyes widened slightly, seeing the cold fury in his eyes. Then he laughed suddenly.

“Go ahead, kill me. It won’t change anything.” Seeing he wasn’t going to get a response from either of you, he continued. “You think you’ve won? You’ve changed _nothing_. Cut off one head, two more appear, remember? We already have the capability to make thousands of soldiers, just like you.”

Your grip tightened and your jaw clenched. Bucky didn’t say anything, he simply reached into the front of his vest and pulled out a small object, holding it up where Strucker could see it.

The remote detonator.

Bucky pressed it, and a thunderous explosion rocked the Vault. Strucker flinched, his eyes widening in shock.

“Not anymore,” you said.

Strucker’s face contorted with rage, and he looked pointedly down to the small pool of blood on the floor underneath you both.

“You’ll never make it out of here alive—”

“We’re tougher than most,” Bucky said. “You ought to know, you made us that way.”

He glanced at you, and the two of you shared a look. It was time to end this. Strucker flailed wildly in your grip as you pulled him off the wall. He continued to thrash as you both grabbed him by the arms and dragged him back out into the Vault.

It was already an inferno. From your position on the catwalk, you could see the charred remains of mind wipe chairs and cryostasis chambers, small explosions peppering the floor as the fuel cells went up. Flames licked the computers, the crackle of electricity adding to the heat of the blaze.

It was beautiful.

Strucker planted his feet and he tried to twist out of your grip as you led him to the edge. Bucky’s metal fist shot out, hitting the man in the spine with surgical precision and paralyzing him. Strucker screamed, and he immediately went limp.

Bucky leaned close to him, his face emotionless. “Now you know what it feels like to be helpless…trapped inside your own body.”

“No…no, no, no…” Strucker’s eyes skittered over to the raging inferno, mouthing the words uselessly as he realized what was about to happen.

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Bucky held something up. It was the red book, the key to controlling the Asset—you didn’t even notice him snatch it off the table. He looked down at it with disgust, and then over at you.

You nodded, and he tossed it over the railing into the fire.

“It’s over Strucker,” Bucky said. “Hydra will burn, but not before you do. I want you to look into the eyes of what you created and feel fear. I want you to _feel_ what your victims felt.”

You backed him up against the low railing. The heat from the pit wafted up, and Strucker’s eyes widened in horrified understanding. Your fingers tightened around his collar. Bucky stood next to you, one hand gripping your shoulder reassuringly.

You stared into Strucker’s eyes, and saw he was afraid.

“This is for John and my parents,” you said. “This is for Bucky. This is for me, for everyone who came before and after, for the lives you stole from us and the lives you made us take.”

“S-Soldat, stop—”

“My name is _Y/N_ , and I want my face to be the last thing you see before you die.”

You released his collar, and he fell over the railing and down into the pit. Bucky took your hand and you turned, the sounds of Strucker’s agonized final screams filling your ears.

Neither of you stayed to watch—you had seen enough death.

***

**Avengers Quinjet – Somewhere over Germany**

“I’m getting a signal—they’ve activated the emergency beacon,” Nat called from the pilot’s seat.

The other Avengers crowded round, staring at the tiny blip on the radar. It hovered over the waypoint Steve had set earlier—Strucker’s Vault.

Nobody spoke. They knew it had to be bad if Bucky had activated the beacon after going to all the trouble to ensure they went on this mission alone. Even Tony was more subdued than usual. The two former soldiers had seen so much heartache and angst over the past few months, no one wanted to believe they could possibly lose them both.

Steve felt Sam’s hand tighten on his shoulder, and he cleared his throat, stuffing his emotions back down.

“How far out are we?”

“About an hour,” Nat answered, her lips drawn into a thin line.

Steve nodded, and gripped the arms of his chair tightly.

***

**Strucker’s Vault**

Bucky stepped back from the railing and pulled Y/N into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and murmured his name, barely audible over the raging fire behind them.

It was over. Really over. Strucker and List were dead, the red book destroyed. The instruments of their control were going up in flames, and the last remnants of the serum was flowing through their veins and currently spilling out onto the floor at an alarming rate.

Now they just had to make it out of there.

Bucky knew it was bad. He had known it as he lay there on the floor, sprawled out on top of her. He could hear the shallow, wet breaths she was taking, and his stomach clenched knowing how badly she was hurt—how badly they were both hurt.

He tilted her head up and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get outta here, huh?”

As he pulled back, he saw her eyes drop to his chest, widening when she saw the placement of the bullet wounds.

“Y/N, I’m fi—”

“Don’t bullshit me Barnes, neither of us are fine.” Her tone was sharp, but he could read the worry in her eyes. “C’mon, there should be a med kit at the entrance.”

Bucky took her hand, and together they made their way along the catwalk to the front of the Vault. Heat billowed up from the hellish scene below, the air thick with smoke that had overpowered the ventilation system.

Already, he felt dizzy from blood loss, the pain returning as the serum’s effects waned. Bucky knew he probably wasn’t going to make it—he was losing too much blood, far too quickly. The wound in his midsection wasn’t the problem, it was the bullet hole through his chest, just to the left of center and close enough to his heart for him to know it was fatal.

His only thought was to get Y/N to the Quinjet and hope Steve made it in time to save her.

Bucky had activated the emergency beacon while they were still in the chamber with Strucker. He kicked himself for not doing it sooner—it was going to take Steve at least six hours to get to them.

Y/N stumbled and started to cough. Bucky caught her and held her up while his own legs shook, and he saw her hand come away wet with blood. Bucky whimpered and pulled her arm over his shoulder, trying to support some of her weight to make it easier for her.

“Bucky," she rasped.

“It’s okay…it’s all right, I’ve got you.”

Soon he was clutching onto her side for dear life as well, the two of them collectively holding each other up and pushing forward towards the blast door. Bucky panted, sweat running down his face, both from the heat of the fire and his own exertions.

They reached the doors. They had sealed shut after the intruder alarm was activated, and Bucky pulled the med kit from the wall while Y/N tried to hack it. She swore colorfully.

“Goddamn Hydra…it’s protected with retinal scan.”

She fell to her knees and ripped open the panel, trying to short it out. Bucky dropped the kit and threw himself at the door with the last of his strength, trying to pry it open with his metal arm. He dented it a little, but he saw it was hopeless.

Y/N dissolved in a coughing fit, clutching at the controls while she swayed. He stumbled over to her and held her tightly, trying not to panic at the blood that trickled down her chin. She was pale, soot streaked across her face and sweat-soaked hair plastered to her forehead. Y/N swore again and clutched her chest, but gradually the coughing subsided.

“C’mere…we’ve got to save our strength.”

Bucky eased her back until they were both sitting against the wall. Y/N gripped his hand tightly as he tucked an arm around her, drawing her close.

“Steve’s on his way,” he gasped. “He should be here soon…we’ve just got to hold out until then.”

***

Bucky grimaced and dragged the med kit over to where you both sat. Uniforms were unzipped, pressure bandages were applied, and you each popped several auto-injectors of morphine to stave off shock, not that it would do much against your enhanced metabolism. You even tried an experimental-looking “clotting compound,” which burned terribly but seemed to help a little.

“Sonofabitch,” Bucky groaned as you sprinkled the powder over his wounds.

“Quit…your whining you big…baby,” you gasped. It was getting hard to breathe.

Bucky stilled your hands. “It’s fine, doll. Just sit back, you shouldn’t be moving around so much.”

He was right. You’d exhausted the kit’s meager supplies. Now you both just had to sit tight and hope Steve could make it to you in time. You nodded weakly and fell back against him as he tucked you under his arm.

You both watched the inferno quietly for a while, mesmerized by its hypnotic flames. Bucky laid his cheek against the top of your head.

“It’s kinda beautiful, isn’t it?”

You snaked a hand around his waist. “It is.”

“We did it,” he said. His bottom lip trembled, and he looked down at you. “I just wish it didn’t come at so high a price.”

You nuzzled into his side as your eyes started to burn. “I know.”

Neither of you were fooling each other. You both knew the score, and the odds were stacked against you. You had known that when you had started out, but now, at the end, you felt nothing but calm.

You had broken free from Hydra and found each other again, lived a brief and wonderful life together, gotten the revenge you both sought, and now you faced the end, side by side with the person you loved most.

Still.

“Do you have any regrets?”

Bucky laughed weakly. “Only about a million and one.”

You laughed along with him, tensing and swallowing back a cough. “What’s the one?”

“Hmmm?”

“You said a million and one…what’s the one?”

Bucky’s face fell. Every emotion, every sorrow was written on his face—there was no point in hiding it now. His fingers intertwined with yours.

“Th-That I never got to ask you if would want to spend the rest of your life with me. I never got to ask…if you would be my wife.”

You huffed, and the tears started to fall.

“So ask me now,” you said quietly.

Bucky went very still. Finally, he pulled back so he could see your face. His lips twitched into a crooked smile. He was far too pale and he was trembling, but his eyes were bright and held nothing but love for you.

“Y/N? Would you marry me?”

You smiled up at him. “Of course I will, you idiot. I love you more than life itself.”

Bucky’s lips crashed into yours. The kiss was needy and desperate, both of you pouring out everything left unsaid as the minutes drew to a close. You whimpered as his hand gently caressed your face. He tasted like blood and sweat, his lips were cold, but you wouldn’t have traded that kiss for anything.

You broke away coughing, and you felt his lips press against your temple. He held you until it passed, and you slumped against him. You wiped at the blood on the corner of your mouth, struggling to breathe. Bucky’s hand gently combed through your hair.

“So…big church wedding…or something small?”

His voice was faint, but he was smiling—he was trying to distract you. You smiled back at him and played along.

“Small…I think…something simple.”

Bucky squinted his eyes, imagining it. “You’ll look so beautiful, up there all in white…lace and flowers…the prettiest flower in the garden.”

“And you in your suit…the one you wore on our date…”

“Maybe I’ll even…cut my hair,” he smirked.

“I think you’d look good…either way…so handsome.”

You brushed your finger along the dimple in his chin, bringing him close for another kiss. Bucky smiled against your lips. The smile turned into a grimace of pain, and his head fell back against the wall. His eyes drifted closed. You shook him. Every word was a fight, but you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet.

“Stay with me, Bucky…tell me…tell me about where we’ll live…I don’t know Brooklyn…very well.”

His eyes fluttered open. “I was thinking…a brownstone…a bright sunny kitchen, little garden in the back...we could get a cat.”

You laughed softly. “A cat?”

Bucky smiled back. “Unless you’re a dog person.”

“Definitely not.” You snuggled into his chest, and his arms tightened around you. “You and me…snuggled in bed with a cup of good coffee, cat at our feet while it snowed outside…a perfect morning.”

Bucky was silent for a while. You could feel his tears soaking into your hair where his cheek was pressed against your head. The game was over.

“So, how about you? What’s your one regret?” he asked finally.

“That…that it’ll never happen. That we were just fooling ourselves.”

Bucky tugged you into his arms. “Oh, sweetheart…it’s okay…”

“I didn’t want this for you.”

“I know.” He paused, and lightly kissed your forehead. “Every second I had with you, though…I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.”

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You both lapsed into silence, your bodies shutting down while the fire raged on. The minutes dragged on as you waited for rescue, knowing it would come too late.

Bucky had stopped shaking a while ago, and you knew that was a bad sign. His breathing had slowed and his eyes kept drifting shut.

“You still with me, love?”

Bucky’s hand slipped limply down your arm.

“Bucky?”

He didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, his head resting against your shoulder. Your heart labored weakly in your chest, and your vision began to grey at the edges.

“It’s…okay Bucky,” you murmured, every word a choked gasp. “Rest now…I’m right…behind you.”

You were so tired.

***

You distantly heard the sound of explosions, and your eyes slowly opened.

A great blast knocked you both sideways as the doors to the Vault were blown open. Lights blinded you, and your hand was ripped from Bucky’s. Strong metal arms lifted you, and you panicked. You didn’t even register the red and gold coloring of the suit or the bright glow of an arc reactor inches from your face.

You flailed weakly, trying to break free. You had to get to Bucky. Then you saw him being hoisted off the deck by man in a blue uniform with a white star.

Steve and Tony—they came. You saw Nat and Sam enter the Vault with guns drawn, covering your exit. You distantly heard Tony shout something, and then you were jolted against him. Pain shot though your chest, and you blacked out.

***

You were flying—wait, what? You couldn’t move your head, and the ground rushed past you. You tried to draw a breath but nothing came, and you dissolved into a coughing fit as the darkness claimed you once again.

***

The whine of a turbojet engine, and you struggled to open your eyes. You felt yourself being set down on a hard surface—the Quinjet? There was shouting, a flurry of activity, and you saw another body being laid next to you.

Hands were pulling at your suit. They hurt, and you feebly tried to push them away. You just wanted to sleep. Pain again, sharp and sudden in the side of your chest. You groaned.

Your head rolled to the side, and there was Bucky. He was lying so still. Hands were tearing at his uniform too, and the blood—there was so much blood.

An oxygen mask was placed over your face, and there was a stinging sensation in your arm. Someone was talking to you, but their voice was muffled…insignificant.

You only had eyes for Bucky.

There was a mask over his face as well, and hands were pushing down rhythmically on the center of his chest—over his heart.

_Bucky…Bucky, no…stay with me…please don’t leave me…_

You tried to reach out to him, but your fingers only twitched. There was more shouting, and you could feel yourself slipping away.

***

Your eyes slowly drifted open.

The pain was gone and you could breathe, the cool rush of oxygen under your nose and the distinctly antiseptic smell of a hospital room. The fragmented memories of the last few hours came back to you, and you shifted in panic.

_Bucky…where’s Bucky? Where’s…_

Frantically you turned your head, spotting another bed in the room.

It was Bucky laying in the bed next to yours. He was pale and still, but very much alive, as evidenced by the quiet beeping of the heart monitor.

“Bucky,” you murmured.

You saw movement, and feebly tried to lift your head. Blond hair and a worried face swam into view—Steve. He was saying something to you, but your ears felt like they were stuffed full of cotton and you couldn’t make it out. Your mouth twitched up in a smile as you felt yourself start to drift again.

Bucky was okay. You were okay. You were home safe with your friends, and everything was going to be fine.

It was finally over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there it is, the final showdown with Strucker. I tried to give his death a sense of poetic justice, hopefully all the whump in this chapter wasn't too much for people. Anyway, let me know what you think, I love all of the comments and hearing what you guys think!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Blood/Medical Trauma, Descriptions of Injuries, Fluff, a wee bit of angst
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

Steve sat in the chair positioned in between the two hospital beds, feeling bone weary and heartsick. The last twenty-four hours was something he never wanted to repeat again. The panicked discovery of Bucky and Y/N’s impromptu mission, running past dozens of dead Hydra soldiers and standing aside as Stark blasted through the doors, finding the Vault ablaze and the dying pair slumped together in the corner, watching helplessly in the Quinjet as Sam tried to resuscitate Bucky and Nat tried to stop Y/N from sharing his fate.

Steve felt like he’d been wrung dry.

That ride home in the Quinjet had been the longest of his life. Sam and Nat had finally managed to stabilize the pair, but it was touch and go with both of them. They simply didn’t have enough blood to replace what they’d lost. For a while, Steve thought they were going to lose them both.

Six hours of emergency surgery later, and both super-soldiers were recovering in the same hospital room. Sam and Nat took turns keeping Steve company when he refused to leave them.

Y/N was the first to wake up, although Steve doubted she would remember it. The doctors had dug one bullet from her lung and another from her stomach, and she looked like she had been in a fistfight, bruising on her face and throat along with several broken ribs.

Steve brushed a hand down his face tiredly and looked down at Bucky, who had yet to wake up. His color was better and so were his vitals, but he was healing slower than Y/N. One of the bullets had lacerated his spleen, so they’d removed it. The other bullet, the doctors told him, had missed Bucky’s heart by less than an inch. It had grazed his pulmonary artery, and the only thing that had saved him was his serum and the strange clotting compound they’d found in the Hydra kit.

Both would make a full recovery, but it had been much too close of a call.

Steve settled back in the chair, his eyes growing heavy. He was just starting to nod off when he heard the shifting rustle of bedding and a hiss of pain.

“Steve?”

The voice was weak and raspy, followed quickly by a couple of coughs. Steve’s head shot up.

“Buck, you—you’re awake!”

The blue eyes were dull with pain, his face ashen. The last time Steve had seen Bucky looking this weak and sick was after he pulled him from Arnim Zola’s lab. Still, his eyes were open, and he was finally awake.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, but Bucky didn’t seem to listen, instead looking around the room dazedly.

Steve grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and offered it to Bucky, but he shook his head. Bucky struggled to sit up, teeth clenched in pain as his eyes frantically searching the room.

“Bucky, lie back, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Y/N…where is she? Is she okay?”

Steve sighed, and he smiled slightly. “Look to your left.”

Bucky turned his head, his eyes softening when he spotted her. She was lying still and pale, although she looked a damn sight better than Bucky did, if Steve was being honest. Bucky’s mouth trembled, and he blinked hard.

“Is…is she…” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“She’s fine, Buck. She woke up for a little bit last night—she really does heal faster than us.”

“How bad is it?”

“A punctured lung, broken ribs, perforated stomach, along with a bunch of cuts and bruises…it looks like you two were in a fistfight.”

“We were…Strucker, he…he activated her. He ordered her to kill me.”

Steve exhaled sharply, and his heart broke realizing what they’d gone through. He knew exactly how that felt, because the same thing had happened between him and Bucky on the Helicarrier. The day Bucky had almost killed him, and Steve had almost let him.

Bucky’s face twisted in pain, and that brought Steve back to reality. He groaned and clutched his chest as Steve gently lowered him back to the bed, and brought the cup to his lips. 

“Drink. It’ll help with the cough.”

Bucky drank a couple sips, then laid back with closed eyes until the pain receded.

“How bad off am I?” he muttered. “Am I missin’ anything important?”

Steve pursed his lips as Bucky’s careless attitude. “Your spleen, though I’m not really sure what that does. The other bullet barely missed your heart, it nicked a major artery and the surgery was pretty extensive. If the pain’s too bad I can give you something for it, Banner cooked up something that seems to work pretty well.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I don’t wanna be knocked out again. I just…”

He drifted off, his head turning again so he could look over at Y/N. Steve could clearly read every emotion on his friend’s face, and he felt his eyes start to water. Bucky had really thought he’d never open his eyes again…that he’d never see her again.

Suddenly the weight of the past day pressed down on Steve, and he wiped angrily at the tears that were falling down his cheeks. Bucky’s eyes widened, and he reached out to grab Steve’s hand.

“Aww Stevie, don’t cry…I’m gonna be fine, you just told me yourself. So’s Y/N, we—”

“I’m not crying, you asshole, I’m seriously fucking pissed at you right now.”

Bucky’s mouth slammed shut and he blinked up in shock and confusion, both at the look on Steve’s face and his choice of language.

“Y-You’re angry?”

“Of course I am, you stupid jerk!” Steve fumed. “I’d punch you in the face if you weren’t hurt so badly right now. How could you possibly think I’d be okay with you just running off to take out a Hydra base by yourself, dragging Y/N along and nearly getting yourselves killed in the process?!”

Bucky scowled. “We made the decision together, Steve. _Together_. Neither of us forced the other—”

“Yeah, well you’re the one who’s awake right now, so you’re the one I’m gonna yell at.”

“You’re seriously mad?”

“I went to your room that night and you were gone—just gone. Y/N too. I sat for _six hours_ on a plane, worrying myself sick over you two, and where do I find you? In the middle of a Hydra Base that’s on fire, dead bodies all around you, and the two of you barely holding on.”

“Steve—”

“I watched you die again, Buck. Your heart stopped, and Sam almost couldn’t bring you back. You…” Steve looked down at the floor, clenching his jaw against the tears that threatened. “You don’t get to do that to me again. That’s twice now…don’t ask me to do it a third time.”

“Steve—”

“And what about Y/N, huh? Fuck—she’s just as bad as you are. I just found out that I actually have family, I’m just finally getting my best friend back after all these years, and the two of you go and throw it all away.”

“Steve—this isn’t about you!” Bucky shouted, using more force than he should have.

He doubled over, coughing and clutching his chest while the monitors went crazy. Steve paled and laid him back, kicking himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. Now wasn’t the time to have this conversation.

He reached over and pushed the button on the IV pump, giving Bucky the painkiller whether he wanted it or not. Bucky groaned as the meds hit him, but gradually his vitals evened out again.

“Shh…I’m sorry Bucky, I…I didn’t mean to get so angry, I just—”

“It’s okay Steve.” Bucky was still a little out of breath, but his voice was stronger. “I…we really weren’t thinkin’ about anyone but ourselves. We just…after everything we’ve been through, we just needed to end it. I’m sorry.”

Steve huffed and brushed Bucky’s hair back from his face. “I know. I know why you did it, you just…you scared the shit out of me.”

“’M so sorry, Stevie.” Bucky was starting to slur his words, and he looked so genuinely upset that Steve’s shoulders fell.

“Just promise me that you won’t go off on your own again—either of you. We’re a family here, all of us. We all love you both, and we’d be devastated if anything happened to either of you.”

Bucky’s lips trembled. “I promise.”

“Please tell me it was worth it. Please tell me you at least made that bastard suffer.”

Bucky smiled darkly. “Yeah…bita…poetic justice.”

For a while, the two just sat there, both lost in thought. Bucky’s hand drifted over and he intertwined his fingers with Steve’s.

“Steve?”

He sighed, his lips tugging up into a smile. “What, Bucky?”

“I like it when you cuss. It’s funny.”

“Fuck.”

Bucky chuckled and so did Steve, and just like that the rift was repaired.

“I love you, you jerk.”

Bucky smiled. “I love you too, Steve.”

News traveled fast that Bucky was awake, and soon Nat, Sam, Bruce, and even Tony squeezed in the room as Helen bustled about. She scolded Steve for upsetting her patient, but Bucky reassured her that it had been mutual, and that he felt fine—more than fine, actually.

“You both had us worried there for a bit, солнце” Nat said.

He hummed and his eyes drifted lazily shut.

“Feelin’ pretty good, huh Bucky?” Tony seemed amused.

“I feel high as a f’king kite,” he slurred happily, “what th’ hell didya give me?”

“Something Bruce came up with,” Helen explained. “It’s designed to knock Hulk out…we gave you both about a half dose, and that seemed to do the trick.”

“Uh huh…Steve yelled at me.”

Tony hummed. “Whelp, I’d say you both probably deserve it, galivanting off on your own like that. Not to steal Cap’s “we’re all a team” speech, but seriously, what the hell were you two thinking?”

“Strucker would’ve gotten away. We did what we had to do,” a voice said from the other side of the room.

All heads turned to see Y/N gingerly pushing herself into a sitting position. Her voice was weak, but her eyes burned with their usual intensity.

“I’m sorry we scared you, and it certainly wasn’t how we intended it to end…but we just couldn’t let him win,” she said. “Did you see what was on the floor of the Vault?”

Nat nodded grimly. “Cryostasis chambers and mind-wipe chairs.”

“Enough to build an army,” Sam added.

“’S over now tho…Strucker ‘n List’re dead, the red book ‘n equipment’s d’stroyed,” Bucky looked over at Y/N, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “’S over…”

She returned his look, her smile falling slightly as she saw the condition he was in. Words and emotions passed silently between the two, the unique nonverbal link they both shared.

Steve blushed, feeling like he was intruding on a very private moment.

“C’mon,” Tony said as he herded everyone to the door. “Let’s give these two lovebirds some privacy.”

***

“Honey…what’re ya doin’?”

Bucky’s speech was still slurring slightly, but his tone was that of alarm. You were currently trying to disentangle yourself from the bedsheets and medical equipment as you swung your legs off the bed. You paused, catching your breath and gathering your strength.

“Coming to see you.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised as you pushed yourself to a semi-standing position, clutching the bedrail for support.

“Y/N—lay back down! You’re not s’posed to be doing that, you’re hurt just’s bad as I am.”

“Yeah,” you huffed, “but we didn’t make it out of that hellhole…just to lay six feet apart and stare at each other…for the next few days.”

You pushed the necessary equipment and monitors next to his bed, sitting down heavily and sighing gratefully. You grinned slyly at him.

“Besides, I heal faster than you.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Bucky grinned and scooted over in the bed. “C’mere.”

With much shifting and cursing and shuffling of wires and tubes, you both finally managed to lay back together in a position where you were both comfortable. Bucky nearly purred with delight as you ran your fingers through his hair, and he looked over at you with adoration.

“Missed you.”

You laughed. “I was right over there, you goof.”

“Yeah, but you’re right,” he said with a smile. “That’s too far away.”

He leaned over and gently pulled you into a kiss, capturing your bottom lip between his. Once again, it felt like a homecoming. His lips were soft and warm against yours, the scent and taste of him filling your every pore and completing you both inside and out.

Your lips parted, and you moaned as his tongue entered your mouth. Bucky’s hand tightened in your hair. He pulled you close, your bodies pressed up against each other as much as possible. You started to deepen the kiss, but you backed off as you heard his heart monitor accelerate—you both had to be careful with each other still.

Your head fell back against the pillow. Bucky murmured your name over and over like a prayer, planting feather-light kisses all over your face. You snuggled into his side, and he held you close.

It was all a little overwhelming for you both. To go from the brink of death to being free and clear of Hydra, once and for all…it almost seemed surreal.

You rubbed your thumb along Bucky’s jaw, taking inventory of his injuries and trying to see how badly he was hurting.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

Bucky gave a halfhearted shrug. “Been better…been worse. I’m feelin’ pretty good now, that painkiller of Bruce’s is no joke. I feel drunk.”

You snorted. “That’s gotta be a different feeling.”

“Yeah…you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said simply.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Physically, you would recover. Mentally though…you’d already been haunted by what had happened in the chamber after Strucker activated you. Being forced to watch as your body turned traitor and tried to kill the man you loved—that wasn’t something you walked away from without a scratch.

Bucky quickly caught on to your mood. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

You didn’t say anything, and he tilted your chin up so he could see your eyes. They were swimming with tears.

“Bucky…what happened in the chamber…when I was…when I was the Asset again…”

“Y/N—”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fight it more,” you whispered as the tears fell. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough…that I hurt you. I’m so stupid, I should’ve seen that it was a trap. When I think about what could’ve happened…”

“Hey—look at me. _Look at me_.” His tone was sharp, and your eyes snapped up to his. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for anything that happened back there. Or anything that _could’ve_ happened. Not a single bit of it was your fault, sweetheart.”

You looked down, but he tilted your chin back up again, brushing his fingers tenderly down your throat. You knew he was looking at the bruises his fingers had left, and you caught his hand, stopping him.

“The point is,” he continued, “you _were_ strong enough to fight it. You came back to me, and together we stopped him. We stopped all of it. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I’m so proud of you. I love you, Y/N, with all my heart, and I can’t wait to start our lives together.”

You kissed him gently. “I love you too, Bucky. Now and always.”

You nestled into the crook of his arm and Bucky pulled your hand onto his chest. He held it just underneath the large bandage there, and you could feel his heart beating as he lightly caressed the back of your hand. A steady, constant reminder that you were both still here.

Bucky’s breathing evened out as he gradually drifted off. You felt your own eyes start to grow heavy, and you surrendered willingly to the sweet oblivion of sleep.

***

Helen paused at the door to their room, peeking through the glass and smiling. The two former soldiers were curled together in the same bed, sound asleep with faint smiles on their faces.

She had been about to go in to check on them, but she didn’t have the heart to wake them. Seeing them like this, after everything they’d been through, she decided that checks could wait just a little bit longer.

They had waited long enough for this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG you guys, one more chapter to go! I can't believe it's finally coming to an end, thank you so so much for all your comments, kudos, and encouragement. This story is my baby, and I can't tell you what all the support has meant to me. Hopefully these last two chapters kind of puts a nice end on things, this has certainly been a roller-coaster!


	26. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Pure Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

**March 28 th, 2014 – Empire Fulton Park, Brooklyn NY**

You and Bucky slowly strolled along the boardwalk, hand in hand. It was a warm spring evening, and the park was filled with the happy squeals of children, barking dogs, and underneath it all, the steady thrum of the city. Behind you, the Brooklyn Bridge stood tall and resolute, its lights just starting to blink on as the sun began to set.

It was a special day—a day of many firsts.

It had been a year, almost to the day, since Bucky had pulled you from the Hydra Base, and two years since the fight on the Helicarrier. Six months since Strucker met his fiery end and the remnants of the Winter Soldier Program burnt along with him. Two months since your names had been cleared by the Federal government, absolving you both of the crimes you had committed as Hydra assassins.

But most importantly, today was your first date. Your first _real_ date, out in the public eye and breathing the sweet spring air as free citizens.

The pizza truly had been the best you’d ever had. Bucky had gushed about the neighborhood as it had been in the thirties and forties, and you listened in rapt attention as you fell in love all over again.

From there you walked around Brooklyn. You had several appointments with realtors, looking at available apartments for rent. It was a fun but exhausting afternoon, and you were both ready to call it quits when the realtor stopped in front of a tidy little brownstone near the bridge.

You knew it was the one as soon as you stepped into the foyer. The previous owners had kept most of its historic charm, adding modern conveniences and touches that didn’t detract from the vintage style.

“So, is this the one?” Bucky asked, coming up behind you and encircling your waist with his arms. “Can you see us here?”

He rested his chin on your shoulder, and your eyes moved about the room.

You saw the front door with its sturdy oak craftsmanship, held solid against the world. Protecting what was important. Bucky would enter through that door, a grin on his face and his eyes lighting up when he saw you. There was a little room just off that. Bucky would sit there, reading his books while you played piano. A large bay window, where if you weren’t feeling social you could sit together and watch the world go by.

You looked further. Over there would go your dining room table, where you would gather with your friends, laughing long into the night. The kitchen, where you and Bucky would cook together, stealing kisses in between the chopping and the stirring. The living room with its huge fireplace, the two of you cuddled close and watching old movies with a cat curled in your lap. The bedroom. Your cheeks flushed just thinking of the steamy nights and lazy mornings that would be had there.

Your life together in this place flashed before your eyes, and you smiled.

Fingers intertwined, and you leaned into him. “It’s perfect.”

You’d signed the papers that afternoon and gotten the keys on the spot. Then you’d pulled Bucky into your arms and christened your new kitchen, and your new bedroom…twice.

Afterwards, you walked down to the water. Bucky held your hand, glancing at you almost nervously.

“So…whatdya think, doll?” His Brooklyn drawl was starting to come out more. “Is this gonna be okay?”

You knew what he was asking. Before Hydra, you’d been a country girl—you’d never even set foot in a big city. You tugged him towards you, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him close.

“Wherever you are is home, Bucky,” you said with a smile, “but this…I could get used to this.”

He watched as you looked up at the towering buildings, the sounds and smells of the city surrounding you both. Humanity bustling all around you. It felt good. It felt flawed.

It felt alive.

Bucky huffed and pulled you into a kiss, right there in front of the Clark Street Station.

You both broke apart reluctantly, walking hand in hand down the sidewalk towards the park. It was a warm spring evening, and you wore a light dress and jacket. Bucky, however, wore a henley and his leather jacket, a single glove covering his left hand.

Most people passed you by without a glance—it was New York, after all. There were still some who stole second glances, whispering behind their hands. You were just thankful there was no outright pointing or verbal threats.

The press had called it “The Trial of the Winter Soldiers,” although it hadn’t actually been a criminal trial. It was a Senate committee hearing, not unlike the one Tony Stark had gone through when he’d first unveiled the Iron Man Technology.

Steve had warned you against it, but you and Bucky had ultimately taken Tony’s advice. If you wanted to live free, you had to clear your names publicly.

The hearing had been brutal. A lot of important-looking people had stood up there, saying some really horrible things about the both of you, and it was almost more than you could bear. Even worse was what the crowd that gathered outside the courthouse would say, and sometimes what they would do.

You weren’t sure if either of you could’ve gotten through it without the other. It was especially hard on Bucky—while the protesters seemed generally confused by your presence, they knew exactly who Bucky was, and the press loved to play up the deeds of the infamous Winter Soldier.

In the end, it was the fact that you both had nearly lost your lives single-handedly destroying the Hydra Base that turned the tide in your favor. Some had called it vigilante justice, and condemned you for adding yet more murders to your tally. Others lauded you as heroes, especially after Tony released the photos of what had been found in the Vault, and what Hydra had been planning.

Heroes or villains, neither of you cared. You and Bucky knew what really happened and what you were, and so did your friends. That was what mattered.

Ultimately, Secretary Thaddeus Ross himself had reluctantly pardoned you from the crimes you’d committed while under Hydra’s control. Yet another shackle unchained.

Still, it wasn’t easy.

 _You_ were relatively safe walking in public—after all, you’d been a ghost in your former life. Bucky was much more easily recognizable though, with his long hair and shiny metal arm with a red star.

Some people were kind, especially the children—they absolutely loved Bucky, and were fascinated with his arm. Others, though, were heartless and cruel, and you’d be lying if you said some of the comments didn’t get to you both from time to time. You had each other though, and your skin was thicker than most—after all, you’d been through worse.

It started as a random conversation, Bucky’s desire to rid himself of every last reminder of his Hydra servitude. You supported him from the start, and helped develop a plan. 

The arm was the first thing to go. Two surgeries, just to remove the arm and the internal components. Hydra had grafted it directly into the bone, replacing several bones in his shoulder and rib cage, just to support its weight. They all had to go. Another experimental procedure to repair the nerve damage, and a final surgery to install his new arm.

Bucky had the final surgery two months ago, and he was already kicking himself that he hadn’t done it sooner. His new arm was lighter. It seemed to move more freely, and he said he no longer got pinched nerves if he slept on it wrong. He didn’t walk with a lean anymore, and for the first time since before the war, his shoulder and back didn’t constantly ache. The arm was made of vibranium, black with gold accents, and much easier to disguise with long sleeves and a glove.

His long hair was the second thing to go.

“Hey doll…could you do me a favor?” Bucky had called from the bathroom.

You poked your head in, and your eyes went wide.

“Oh, my.”

Bucky was trying to cut his hair himself, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he craned his neck to see the back of his head. He blushed and smiled a little crookedly.

“Could you hold up that mirror? I can’t see the back.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Do you want me to help? I can cut it for you.”

Bucky let out a sign of relief. “Would you? I didn’t want to go to a barber or anything…strange people touchin’ me…”

You brought in a chair and gestured for him to sit, and he smiled thankfully up at you. You ran your fingers through the shaggy locks before picking up the scissors, but Bucky grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait—you’ve done this before, right?”

“I cut Steve’s hair all the time, don’t worry,” you laughed.

Bucky considered that and made a face. “Well, don’t cut it like his, he looks like a dweeb.”

You giggled and grabbed your phone, pulling up several pictures of men’s hairstyles. “Why don’t you show me what you’re looking for, then.”

The day ended with Bucky’s chestnut locks on the floor of your bathroom, along with all the baggage that had associated it with Hydra. His hair wasn’t too short, still long enough to where it could be combed back, but short enough to where it wasn’t falling into his face anymore.

Nothing made you happier than when you handed him the mirror. It was like he hadn’t liked what he’d seen in the mirror in years, something that was just beginning to change. The way his baby blues lit up and his face transformed with a dazzling smile…it left you weak in the knees.

You were a lucky woman.

You smiled up at Bucky, blinking back tears as he tucked an arm around you and kissed your temple.

“Thank you,” he whispered thickly. It was an emotional day for you both.

Slowly, your lives began to settle out into something resembling normalcy, which was strange enough in itself.

You’d both started volunteering at various places around Brooklyn. It had been Bucky’s idea. A way of giving back after everything you’d been made to do. It helped redeem yourselves in the eyes of some people, but that’s not why you did it. Helping others eased the ache in your souls and quieted the demons. It felt good to be doing something positive for once.

After you’d both recovered from your injuries, you had a long talk about leaving the Avengers. You were both so tired of killing. You wanted something more out of life, something that had been denied to you for far too long. Still, the nagging reminder that Hydra was still out there plagued the back of your mind. Neither of you could sit back and do nothing, not when you had been given the unique ability to stop men like Strucker.

Ultimately, you both decided to stay. There would always be one more fight, one more bad person to stop, and as long as they were out there, you both felt it was your duty to protect others. Another way of giving back.

As soon as your names were cleared though, you and Bucky started looking for an apartment. You weren’t in a huge hurry—it had to be the right one, you both agreed. You’d miss the camaraderie and the movie nights, squabbles over who stole who’s leftovers from the fridge, the petty bets between Tony and Rhodey…but it was time to move on.

Time for the chance to live your lives together.

You’d even gotten the cat. Her name was Alpine, a tiny little ball of white fluff, and Bucky had actually squealed when you’d surprised him with her on Christmas. You both doted on her, and she quickly became the queen of your little apartment in the Tower. Bucky though…she had him wrapped around her little paw. Sam had snorted milk out his nose one time when he caught Bucky speaking baby talk in Russian to her.

Still, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses for the two of you. The Incident at Strucker’s Vault and the events leading up to it had left you both scarred, physically and emotionally. A lot of nightmares and demons to chase, long talks between the two of you, and plenty of shared tears.

Bucky still hadn’t completely forgiven himself for what he’d done to you. He understood how you felt, he really did, but it was hard for him to let it go. You supported him and gave him his space when he needed it, always there to be what he needed, just as he was with you.

Bucky had gone with you to visit their graves. It was a hard day for you both, emotions and memories returning fresh for you, the guilt and remorse hitting Bucky hard. He swallowed it down, though. He held you while you cried, soothing you and letting you vent your feelings to him. It was hard, but he did it for you.

Bucky was withdrawn and didn’t speak for almost two days after the visit, but eventually he came round again. It was another step in the right direction.

Bucky squeezed your hand, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Hey—you with me?”

You reached your arm around his waist, slipping up under his jacket. “I’m okay.”

His smile dropped a bit. “You look sad.”

“It’s just today…thinking about everything that led up to this point, I guess I started to get a little too deep, you know?”

Bucky nodded. He brushed your hair back, his thumb caressing your cheekbone as his eyes flicked back and forth between yours. A soft kiss, and you were smiling again.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured. He grinned and took you by the hand, tugging you down the boardwalk excitedly. “C’mon, I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up.”

“Is it in your pants?”

Bucky ground to a halt, looking back at you in shock and delight. “I swear, the mouth on you…”

He yanked you into a sizzling kiss that curled your toes and left you breathless. He laughed softly, seeing your eyes darken with want.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what am I going to do with you.”

He grinned mischievously. “I’ve got a couple of ideas.”

Bending to your ear, he whispered dirty promises of what he’d do to you once he had you alone, the mere suggestion nearly making your knees buckle.

“Later though,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose sweetly. “First, we’re gonna go ride that carousel.”

You laughed as he grabbed your hand again. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I am.”

Just when you thought your heart couldn’t get any fuller. The sight of Bucky giggling like a little kid as you both bobbed up and down on the painted horses, his laughter infectious and his cheeks flushed with joy—that look right there. You wanted to see him that happy for the rest of your life.

You both exited the carousel a little out of breath and dizzy with laughter. Bucky wrapped his arm around you and nuzzled your hair, sighing happily. He led you down to the water’s edge, and you both sat down against a large oak tree.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and Bucky leaned his head against yours. From where you sat, you could see the lights of the whole city, played out across the water in a brilliant display. Suddenly, the memory of another date came to mind—one where you had watched the lights of the city from the rooftop of the Tower, as Bucky told you where he would take you for your first date.

He was recreating the date for you.

You let out a shaky breath, momentarily overcome. Bucky looked down at you in concern, but you smiled, looking out over the water.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whispered.

His eyes widened, seeing that you remembered. For the longest time he just stared at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, his eyes nakedly showing every emotion he was feeling.

“Yes…it is,” he said, without taking his eyes from you.

Soft lips met yours, parting to draw you in closer. Tasting you, breathing you in. His hands cradled your face, one warm and one cold, the duality of him encompassing you, completing you. Tender sighs and quiet moans beneath the stars, the world narrowing until you were the only two people left in it.

Finally, reluctantly, you came up for air. Bucky sat next to you quietly, seemingly lost in thought. He reached into his pocket and took something out, showing it to you.

It was a diamond ring. Simple and classic, and timelessly old-fashioned—just like him.

“I know I already asked you…” he began, and you could hear his voice shake a little. He cleared his throat and started over.

“I figured I’d ask you again…now that we’re not both bleeding out and facing a fiery death in an underground Vault,” he said, his lips twitching up in a smirk. “I…I wanted to ask you the right way.”

Bucky sat up, biting his lip and twirling the ring between his fingers nervously. He looked up at you, and you could’ve drowned in the depths of those blue eyes.

“Y/N, you’re my friend, my partner, and my best girl…my equal in every way. I loved you before I even knew who I was, I love you now, and I will love you always. You are my guiding light…my north star. You’re my heart and my home, and I will always find my way back to you. In this life and the next, I’m yours.”

You blinked back the tears that threatened. Bucky smiled tenderly at you and held up the ring.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

You let a watery laugh. “Yes. Yes a thousand times, you can ask me as much as you like.”

Bucky slid the ring on your finger, and you jumped into his arms. He laughed as you kissed him wildly. This was it, the start of your new life together.

You couldn’t wait.

Bucky pulled you back against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you both looked out over the water. You leaned back, resting your head against his chest and humming quietly, the little song you’d sung to him that morning so long ago. Bucky rubbed his nose against your cheek affectionately.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Bucky. Always.”

You both sat there watching the lights, long after night had fallen and the crowds left. Simply enjoying each other and your freedom. Contemplating the start of your new life together, full of wonderful possibilities. Happiness and heartache, ups and downs, and above all, the chance to choose for yourselves.

The path lay wide and empty in front of you, maybe a little scary, maybe a little exciting. Whatever came, you would face it all as you’d faced everything else.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s done! What started out as a 4-5 chapter fic has turned into this monstrosity that somehow took on a life of it’s own. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I had writing it. This is my first full-length series, and I’m extremely proud of it. 
> 
> THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone that’s left comments, kudos, likes, and reblogs, both on AO3 and Tumblr. You were the fuel that kept me going, and I honestly would have been too scared to post this (or write anything this intense) without your support and encouragement. THANK YOU!
> 
> What’s next? Well…I’ve actually sketched out a sequel with these two. I’m not going to start it until I finish up some of my other WIP’s, and can develop a more consistent posting schedule, but my goal is to start it around December.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading, I’ll always be here or on Tumblr @constantwriter85 if you want to chat.
> 
> Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated, thank you for reading!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @constantwriter85


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